Remembering Tibet
by Kat J
Summary: JasonElizabeth AU The past haunts them. To heal, they need each other.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Remembering Tibet

Author: Kat/Yuppiekat

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I don't own...well, anything pertaining to GH. :(

Summary: AU -- The past haunts Jason and Elizabeth. In order to heal, they'll need each other.

Notes: There are a few things that you should know about this fic... This fic was started (I believe) in 2002, but time constraints and frustration about the show stalled the writing of this fic. I am in the middle of re-reading and revising all the chapters. I'm not sure how often I can post. I wish I had more time to work on this, but you'll have to settle for a sporadic posting schedule. The character of Lucky is, well, very out of character. I'm aware of that. This is an Alternate Universe fic. (And, possibly, a strange one at that.)

* * *

Right hand cramping, stomach rumbling and underwear riding up in places it just _shouldn't _be. That was how Elizabeth Webber's day was going. Served her right for not doing laundry the night before, therefore forcing her to wear the leopard thong she found in the back of her drawer—a birthday present she'd gotten last year and only wore on occasions such as this. Thongs were too impractical and just not her style. Besides she wasn't looking to attract _that _kind of attention. She hadn't been looking for that kind of attention for a long time now. 

Sinking into the uncomfortable lecture chair her petite frame was swallowed by the threadbare cushions. She disappeared behind the lanky student ahead of her, Dexter Hamilton. He was her savior. If only he knew…

He had been her shield for more classes than she cared to remember. The guy was beyond tall, what she liked to call "noticeably tall." Possessing the kind of height that people couldn't help but stare at, he was awkward, to say the least. And the average passerby wouldn't have much to look at. Because he was so skinny he could turn sideways and be mistaken for a light pole. So, it wasn't coincidence that every class they had together she chose to sit behind him, even though she knew he would smell like a combination of camembert and tiger balm. He made her invisible and for that she sacrificed her nose…and ears. Not only did he have a rather unusual smell, he also had the horrible habit of cracking his knuckles every five minutes. God, she hated that sound! Pop. Pop. Pop. It was the sickening crunch of bone and cartilage being pushed in and out of normal position under tight flesh.

So, okay, he wasn't exactly a pleasure to sit behind. Still, she had to give him credit. The man was a brilliant artist. A recluse and bordering on painfully shy, he always gave her his best smile, albeit forced. Often she wondered if it hurt him to smile. Artists were, after all, known to be of the brooding denomination, weren't they? Either way she was glad he was always around. Always shielding her and making sure she was out of sight. Even if he was too engulfed in his own private agony to ever notice.

She _was_ listening to the lecture being delivered, even if it didn't look like it and even though the very sight of the man before her made her nervous and feeling less than adequate. She'd heard about this class. Heard the outlandish rumors she was just hoping had been exaggerated. She'd actually been dreading this very class since she first received her acceptance letter to the university and the art program. And those rumors? Not so far from the truth, after all. It was shaping up to be a very long year.

Scanning the tiles on the ceiling she wondered how long it would take to count the cracks and water marks on the dingy surface. That felt like a more worthwhile task than listening to the lecture that left her, not only confused, but annoyed. It was like the professor enjoyed torturing his pupils.

Turning to her left, just over her shoulder, she spotted her always-entertaining schoolmate, Trisha Harper. Trisha was…different. She was flamboyant and gifted and not afraid of her own sexuality. Not afraid of anyone's sexuality, actually. She prided herself on being open and sensuous. She didn't mind that people talked about her behind her back. That people labeled her and envied her and hated her. Trisha was the queen of sex; the sultan of stamina; the goddess between the sheets. Amongst Trisha's extensive track record she was still most proud of boinking the principal of her high school just as the Mrs. walked in... There for the ride and lived to tell about it!

Trisha was the type of girl that was perpetually at the top of Santa's naughty list and liked it that way. She didn't live her life according to anyone's standards and if someone disagreed that was _their_ problem, not hers.

And to Liz, the classic prude, Trisha represented everything she could never be. Hence, the rejected leopard thing. Not to say that Liz hadn't had her own experiences, but they were as different and misguided as any other teenager and she now prided herself on the simpler things life had to offer. She was finished being the "bad" girl. Besides, Trisha got herself into enough messes for the both of them. But they never clashed. They never compared. They just were. They accepted each other, not in spite of their faults, but because of them.

Beside Trisha, as always, was her lackey Lucky Spencer, otherwise known as Spence to close friends. The boy followed Trisha around like a puppy dog, hoping to get one scrap. Spence had given up his dignity long ago. Even though he knew Trisha was not interested in him, he still followed her around. Toting her things and acting like the perfect suitor. Of course, Lucky's idea of courting was a six-pack of beer and the playboy channel. So he wasn't Don Juan. He was still an okay guy. A little rough around the edges, but what human male wasn't?

Lucky was the first friend Elizabeth made when she moved to Port Charles. When she didn't know anyone, Lucky was there to guide her. And, okay, he wasn't always such a pain in the butt. Lucky's background, despite being complicated, was what really bonded them. When you caught him being serious, he had a lot of really interesting things to say. He didn't like to talk about it, but growing up, on the road with his parents, was tough on him. And even though Lucky wasn't serious all that often, he was always there when she _really_ needed him.

A faint smile passed Liz's lips. These were who she called her best friends in the world. What did that say about her? From the outside looking in they were a disaster served up three different ways. Still, they fit. They complimented each other and who cared what the rest of the world thought anyway?

Besides, Lucky and Trisha built her back up when everything about her life seemed to be shattered and broken. They wouldn't allow her to be the pile of rubble that she came to them as. Nope, they saw to it that she was whole again. Not to say that there weren't still a few little cracks and taped up edges, but for the most part she was in one piece.

Attention wavering once again, she wasn't surprised when Harper held up a detailed caricature of two people in some pretty compromising positions.

When she didn't get the response she was hoping for, she simply went back to work, immersed in the drawing.

Rolling her eyes, Elizabeth shifted her eyes back to the front of the class.

"I'm sick of boring architecture and pathetic landscapes," Professor Sharpy announced.

Ugh, Professor Sharpy. He was the epitome of pretentious bastards all across the world. He was the type of man who would nab a taxi from an old woman and not think twice. He was the kind of man that probably stole from the collection plate at church and had the audacity to question the need for public assistance for single mothers. He was _not_ the kind of man that dealt with compassion, nor realized it existed.

"This term you, my little amebas, you will try your best not to bore me. Almost none of you will succeed. I imagine there may be some splashes of brilliance, but those moments will be fleeting." He surveyed the class, turning up his nose. "There is one purpose to this class and one purpose only. That is to weed out those of you who are not meant to be here. I suspect that will be most of you."

"Asshole!" Elizabeth mumbled under her breath.

"What was that, Miss Webber?"

She scowled.

"I didn't say anything."

Great. She'd just put herself at the top of the Professor's hit list. _Real_ smart, Liz.

"Right. As I was saying, this course is not for the weak."

Dr. Sharpy looked right at Elizabeth. Was it just her, or was this guy goading her?

"This course is a challenge and it has broken more people's drive for art than it has inspired. So ask yourselves right now: are you up for the challenge? Can you come here week after week with your mediocre work and be satisfied with yourselves? If you're not ready to make a commitment to this class, the door is right there."

The Prof turned and moved to the blackboard at the front of the room. In bold, capital letters he wrote NEW. He turned, leaning against the board and studied his pupils.

"You will make me see something in a new light or you will fail this class. I want you to take something and paint it in such a way that I'm seeing it for the first time."

The class sat in silence.

Elizabeth already had a headache from this man and she suspected that as the term went on it would only get worse.

"Any questions?" Dr. Sharpy asked, as cold as a piece of ice. When no one raised their hand, he continued. "Great! I'll see all those who are brave enough back here next week."

The class left the lecture hall with grumbling and moans of displeasure.

"Who the hell does he think he is?" Elizabeth asked Trisha when she made her way up the few steps to her row.

"The head of the fucking art department, that's who!" Lucky barked from behind them, wrapping his arms around both women's waists.

"Get lost, Spence!" Trisha said, grabbing his hand and yanking it from her waist.

"Come on, Harper, you know you want me," Lucky drawled in a sing-song voice.

"Why, yes, I can't resist you anymore. I need you! I want you!" She pushed him against the wall, palm pressed to his chest. "Let's just do it! Right here! Right now!" She leaned in, inches from Lucky's lips, about to kiss that dumb expression off his face.

Elizabeth could only watch the inevitable.

Lucky's eyes grew in size, anticipating the feel and taste of Trisha's lips against his own.

That's when Trisha went in for the kill. Only millimeters away Trisha veered off-course, turning her cheek and just grazing her skin against the stubble of his chin. "Not in a million years, Spence." She laughed, slapping him playfully.

"Jesus, Harper, way to boost a guy's ego."

"Spence if your ego gets any bigger, we'll have to rent a separate car to carry it around."

"A car? Try something larger, like a forklift."

"That could work."

The women laughed, bruising poor Lucky's ego even more.

"Ugh! Not you too, Liz."

Lucky covered his face with his hand and shook it from side to side.

"Later, people! I've got to go. My human sexuality professor offered me some private tutoring." Trisha laughed, pumping her fist.

"There you go breakin' my heart all over."

"I think you need one in order to do that," Trisha called over her shoulder, skipping down the hall.

"When are you going to stop falling for that, Spence? She does it to you at least three times a week."

Lucky beamed. "She wants me."

"Right." Elizabeth stuffed her book back into her backpack and brought it up over her shoulder. "You have any plans for lunch?"

"Nah. I got two hours before my next class."

"Wait a minute, what were you doing in Professor Dickheads class anyway? You don't even take art," she asked, walking toward the cafeteria. "Never mind, don't even answer that. Lucky, let's do a little reality check here, shall we? You've been chasing Trisha for what? Two? Three years now…? Don't you think it's time to give up?"

Lucky didn't stop to consider Liz's questions. He jutted out his chin proudly. "I think she's warming up to me."

"Okay, Spence? You've got a lot to learn about women."

He was hopeless.

"C'mon, let's go. I'll even feed your ass." She smiled, tugging him along with her.

"Thanks, Liz. You always did know how to cheer a guy up." He rolled his eyes.

* * *

He was tired. 

More tired and more lonely than he'd felt his entire life. And, sometimes, he wondered how much longer he could go on like this. This life was killing him.

His feet were hitting solid ground with slight pain. The ground was a muddy, soggy mess and it splashed against his running shoes, chasing up his socks and pant legs, turning over in his wake and leaving behind scattered footprints. He didn't stop. The burn in his calves wouldn't stop him. The ache in his thighs nor the tightness in his chest would either. He wouldn't stop running until he was exhausted and could no longer feel anything.

It took a lot for that to happen. He knew from experience. He was a master of hiding from himself, and a master of self-torture and pain. He was either needing to feel alive or needing to feel nothing. So much so, it seemed he was dying inside. These were the rules he lived by: either he felt or didn't.

Today he chose not to.

Today he decided to ignore everything in him rioting for acknowledgement. He just wanted to forget, to leave the pain behind him in the soft, wet tracks.

Entering the gate that lead to his home, he slowed the pace. He waved to the men working on the grounds. It was a wonderful place to grow up he had to admit. Lush grass, abundant trees, rolling hills and the magical architecture… It all seemed so perfect, so…normal. Some place hidden with mysterious powers that were alluring, yet still not fully realized.

Sonny, Jason's best friend, watched from the window while Jason trudged the grounds. He knew what he was doing, even if Jason never told him. It was either punishing runs through the hills of the estate or midnight bike rides up the cliff road that acted as aids on how to read Jason. Sonny knew how to interpret things by now. It didn't really matter what activity Jason chose, neither were done to derive any sense of happiness. Sometimes Sonny wondered if Jason even knew what happiness felt like.

Running and riding. Both were emotional pits that he dragged himself into at least twice a week. Losing his parents at the tender age of six and being raised by monks until he was twelve, then coming to live at the monastery, had made Jason a man with many secrets and much knowledge.

It happened in Tibet where his mother and father had been working, protesting the rights of the people. That experience had changed the young boy. Not only had he learned a discipline so profound while living there and studying, he had also made friends. People that would later die to protect him.

It seemed in his life that's what happened to anyone who got close to him.

They died.

When there was no one left to take care of him, he was shipped back to America where he came to live with his uncle, a Catholic priest. It had been over two years since his death and he grieved for him every day.

For a long time he fought his friendship with Sonny, but eventually Sonny's charm and persistence won him over…and maybe his cooking had a little to do with it. They were friends and had common experiences with death. Sonny had left his life of luxury and turned in his mobster ways for a life less complicated. A life, that in so many ways, seemed to be even more fulfilling.

After his child and wife died of a blast from a car bomb, Sonny blamed himself. He shut down from the rest of the world. He didn't need the money he'd conned over the years, developing a small criminal business into an outstanding empire. And what did he need with power? Power that had been so precious before fell by the wayside. Those things belonged to a world and time that seemed so long ago.

He let go of the world he had known and blocked out everything that lurked outside of the high spiked fences that surrounded this sanctuary, closing himself off.

Much like Jason had. To some degree still did.

It was fate and neither one of them ignored fate.

Religion was not a straight line for Jason Morgan. He lived in many places and had many different glimpses at how other people lived. Friendships and honor, even love, made the boundaries between religions blur. It didn't matter that he lived among Buddhist monks and now priests. He considered himself a free agent of sorts. He didn't let one religion tie him down, instead embraced none.

Believing meant feeling and feeling was too painful.

Sonny closed the blinds and smiled to himself.

Jason Morgan was a complicated guy. All he needed was a strong woman to get him out of the shell he so often retreated to.

Stripping off his shirt, Jason stretched, languishing in the last of the summer heat. Tingles shot down his spine. He felt the breeze shift into fall.

* * *

"You know what your problem is?" Lucky asked Elizabeth from across the table. He watched her play with her French fries. 

"Oh, God, not another one of those famous Spencer talks. Keep your opinion to yourself. I'm in no mood to hear you rant about everything I do wrong in my life. Save it for one of those poor unsuspecting women you bring home and sleep with. There is no need for you to try to fix me," she said to him, barely looking up from her meal.

She didn't want to hear anything from Lucky today. Her mind was in other places and on other things. She had to find something to paint that would win over the humorless Dr. Sharpy.

"Come on, Lizzie. Don't be like that."

"How should I be, Spence? Indulge me with your great wisdom _oh pathetic one_," Elizabeth crowed, sarcastically.

"Jeez, Liz, what's got you wound so tight? Is this about that fuck-head Callahan? I'll kick his ass if he's not treating you right."

Lucky moved his chair next to hers and she almost laughed at the expression of violence and empty threats in his tone. Even if he went about it the wrong way, Lucky's heart was always in the right place. "This has nothing to do with Paul. We're not even dating any more."

She took a sip of her drink and studied the other students around them. They seemed to be so oblivious to the real word.

So…unaware. God, forget Dexter, maybe _she_ was the tortured one.

"You have that look on your face again."

"What look?" Liz asked defensively.

"The one you get when something's wrong. When you're all in deep-thought mode and shit. Come on, Liz, if you can't talk to me who can you talk to?"

"Spence, don't take this the wrong way, but that's not very reassuring. If all I have left is you to talk to, something must be wrong." She laughed, breaking the tension.

"Fine, if you don't want to talk to me, at least talk to Harper. If I'm such a bad friend, I wouldn't want to talk to me either," Lucky said.

It was obvious that she had hurt him. Why was she always taking out her problems on the people around her?

"I didn't mean it," Elizabeth said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "It's just this art class. It's got me all turned around. How the hell am I going to manage to impress that ass?"

"That's what you're worried about? Fuck, Liz, you're the best bloody art student in the whole goddamn school. That prick, Sparky..."

"Sharpy."

"What?"

"His name's Sharpy not Sparky," she corrected.

"His name can be Saint Fuckin' Nick for all I care. He still won't be able to deny the truckload of talent you pack in that little body of yours once he gets an eye-full of your work. So stop worrying; it makes bad karma," he joked. "Now are you going to tell me what happened between you and Paul or will I have to stalk Harper some more to find out?"

"I think you stalk her enough as it is. It's simple, really. There was just..."

"Nothing there!" They said in unison.

"Come on, Lizzie, not even one spark?"

"Not a one." She sighed.

"Maybe you're a lesbian?" He laughed, almost knocking himself onto the floor when he saw the incredulous look on Elizabeth's face.

"Lucky Spencer, you are a complete jerk! Just because I haven't met the right man yet, does not make me a lesbian. If all men are even _remotely_ like you, where am I supposed to find someone descent?" she spat, picking up her tray and depositing it in the trash.

"Liz, it was a joke." He laughed, crawling to her feet, wiping the happy tears form his eyes. "Forgive me?"

"Get up!" she begged. _Oh, man_. He was starting to attract attention their way. "Get up you little shit or I swear to God I will kick you square in the balls," Elizabeth announced in a hushed tone, tightening her jaw.

"Whoa, whoa! Let's not be irrational here." He picked himself off the floor and dusted off his pants. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. You're always sorry." She smiled in spite of herself. "Look, I have to go. Stay out of trouble."

"See ya, Lizzie!" he called after her, watching her walk away.

But she stopped. And he recognized that look on her face and that coy little smile. He was in for it.

"Oh, and, Spence…? You should really get that _thing_ checked out. Genital herpes is really not something to mess with!" she called, walking away with a smug smile on her face. She heard Lucky curse behind her.

"What are you all looking at?" Lucky squeaked when people began to gawk at him. "Damn, people, can't you take a joke?"

* * *

Elizabeth's head was still in the clouds when she began walking down a path to which she thought led to the park. Having stopped by her tiny apartment to grab her sketch book and some pencils, she decided to attempt to create a new way of looking at things and her best bet was to start at the park. The park always seemed to inspire something, if not a great sketch, at least an idea for one. 

She stalled when she came to a gate at the end of the path. Had it been there before? There was a lock keeping it closed, but there seemed to be just enough room to squeeze through. It was times like this she was thankful for her short stature and modest frame. Hoisting her bag over the fence, she pulled the chain so she could maneuver her way under it and then slowly went through.

Her breath caught in her lungs, making her chest tighten, when she scanned the expanse of scenery that came into view in the clearing. It was magnificent! Tucked away amongst the lush bushes and evergreens, no one would suspect the gothic fortress that lay hidden. The magnitude and scale were unlike anything she had ever seen. If anything could make Professor Sharpy see things in a new light, it was this place. She could only wonder what the inside was like.

Why wonder, when she could sneak a peak?

Moving across the manicured lawn and garden statues, Elizabeth walked the long path to the tall building, only to find that beyond it lay more buildings of lesser size. An overhang of weeping willows lapped against the small pond in the centre of the courtyard, just beyond a fountain commemorating cherubs and nymphs. There was a small church she could barely make out in the distance. And, to her delight, the smaller buildings appeared to be abandoned. They weren't run-down by any means. Someone took great care in looking after them. But they called to her. They hinted at secrets buried in their brick and stone walls, whispered inspiration as the light hit their tinted glass windows and scattered brilliant colors over the lawn and cobbled pathways. It was magic.

The smell of wood and leaves burning in the distance tickled her nose. She loved the smell; closed her eyes and breathed it in fully. When her eyes opened her jaw nearly dropped when she caught sight of a man standing only a short distance in front of her.

Taking in the sights, she had almost overlooked the one thing that now had her heart beating violently against her chest.

Barefoot and shirtless, wearing a dark pair of pocketed pants, a man stood doing what looked like Tai Kwon Doe, Karate, or some other form of marshal arts.

He was striking.

From the tips of golden hair soaked with sweat, to the rippling back muscles and tight abdomen, the man epitomized the term Adonis.

His fists cut through the air in sharp tight jabs, so fast and expert it was obviously not a fluke. This man was built and strong and for some reason an air of danger radiated from him. His shoulders were square and his massive legs were firmly planted on the ground. It seemed impossible to move this mountain of a man. Not that she would even try. He was perfect right where he was.

She looked down at her own small figure and knew, during a very strong wind, she had trouble walking. Not this man. Nature, the elements, God himself couldn't make this man move if he didn't want to.

When she realized she was staring, Elizabeth felt her face flush, but continued to stare. He seemed so focused, so unaware of her presence. She saw no reason to make herself known.

When he turned in her direction with a roundhouse kick making the air whistle from the movement, Elizabeth stumbled back. Not quite from fear, but from surprise.

His eyes were fixed on her. Eyes so blue and unrelenting, she felt her stomach flutter from the sheer nakedness his stare brought.

"Hi, I'm Elizabeth Webber," she offered to the cold glare he shot her way.

She received nothing in return. Not even a blink of acknowledgement.

And since awkward silences had never been her thing, she felt compelled to speak.

"Do you live here?" she asked, suddenly self-conscious.

The man did not answer her. He simply continued his rotations and punches to the air.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Okay, so he had completely dismissed her. But she wasn't going to let that thwart her. He obviously didn't know who he was dealing with. Why were men such complete idiots?

"See, this is where you say: "hi, I'm…"--and then you insert who you are."

The silence grew thick and the minutes ticked by. Yep, remaining quiet was definitely not her thing.

"Look, I can see you're busy and I'm obviously bothering you, but chill, okay? I didn't mean to interrupt you. And, yeah, totally impressed by the karate chops and all… I mean, you're obviously very into, uh, physical fitness…which is totally cool. Me? Not so much. I nearly knocked myself out with a tether ball in gym class once…which, is completely besides the point… Anyway, I thought I knew my way to the park and I just stumbled on this place," Elizabeth said by way of apology.

She took another look at the impressive landscape and…well, the impressive man in front of her.

Oh, boy. That was a mistake. Because he was staring at her again, sizing her up and then slowly and ever-so-subtly his eyes dropped to her mouth. She could almost feel the shift. That was it. She was now in a tailspin. A tangent was inevitable.

"It's really quite beautiful here. I had no idea it even existed. Even in all the years I've lived in this town. Which is weird, right? I mean, you'd think I'd have stumbled on this place sooner or later. It's not like this huge secret or anything, is it? 'Cause you'd think a secret garden would be a lot more…you know, secret. But I guess I did kind of stumble upon it…

"I'm kind of rambling. I don't mean to do that. It's just when I get nervous I tend to talk and talk...and talk. Spence and Harper --uh, those are my best friends-- anyway they tell me that one day they are going to time me to see how long I can stay silent. The going guess is two minutes. I'm pretty sure I can last more than two minutes, but..."

Her focus had been on her hands, twisting them out of habit, and when she looked up, meeting an indifferent set of eyes, she got the message, loud and clear.

"…And you really don't care." She stopped, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I really just wanted to sketch this place, but if it's private property or I need special permission or something... Could you tell me where I could find the owner or something?"

Elizabeth stepped back and waited while he reverted back to his exercise, or whatever the heck it was he was doing, and stared right at her-- through her, was more appropriate. Her patience was beginning to wane and no matter how handsome the man before her was, she wasn't going to take the silent treatment from anyone, especially not after the day she'd had.

"Look, _pal_, you don't have to be rude! If you want me out of here, just say so. You don't have to stand there and pretend I don't exist while you do your little karate kicks or whatever the hell it is you're doing. Didn't your mother ever teach you it's rude to stare?" She saw him flinch at that and for a brief moment she felt guilty, but then she remembered what a jerk he was being and it was game-on again.

Her eyebrows drew together in a scowl. "Fine, be an asshole. I won't bother you any more," she all but yelled and stormed off, only to run straight into something hard.

"Shit! You scared me!" Elizabeth said, clutching her chest to slow the fast beat of her heart.

"I'm sorry, Miss..."

"Webber. Elizabeth Webber. And you are?" she asked, cocking her brows at him.

This new addition to the ever-growing list of people whose sole desire seemed to be to drive her nuts was clad in dress pants with slick lines and a tailored finish, a light blue button-down and an apron. Huh. Interesting combination. Somehow the look worked from him. It was like he was pulled from a special cooking addition of GQ.

"Sonny Corinthos," the man said, flashing a dimpled smile and sparkly brown eyes at her. "I'm the chef here."

Liz nodded, faintly impressed. Okay, so maybe she could take Sonny off the list. He seemed harmless enough. And at least he answered her questions.

She scanned the scenery again. This was definitely a place she could transform onto a canvas. There were secrets whispering to her from the trees, she could feel it as surely as she felt the cool fall breeze against her face.

"Let me ask you something, Sonny. What is this place?"

"A monastery."

No! No, this was not happening.

"A what?! Just my luck," she moaned, slapping her forehead. "So that guy over there on the lawn is a priest? Shit!"

Her eyes widened realizing she'd just cursed. Could she be a bigger idiot?

"Oh, God. I'm sorry about the language."

"It's not a problem." He smiled. "Now, what guy?" Sonny peered easily over the young woman's head seeing only Jason in the distance.

"The one over there doing all the kung foo crap. Tall, blonde, muscular," she murmured.

She didn't mention devilishly handsome.

Sonny laughed. It was deep and rumbled through his chest. "Jason? No, of course not."

"Thank God! I don't think I'd be getting into heaven with the way I talked to him if he was a priest," she said, laughing anxiously. "If he's not a priest, then who is he?"

"Jason Morgan. He's the maintenance man. We live over there." Sonny indicated to the large house on the outskirts of the property.

"Oh, and he wouldn't talk to me because…? I mean, I know I'm not the most holy of people but I'm okay, aren't I? I don't seem like some kind of psycho freak, do I?" She examined herself. She looked presentable enough.

"Well, of course not. That's just Jason. He's taken on a vow of silence out of respect."

"A vow of silence? I bet the guy is a real barrel of laughs." She snorted.

Sonny's lips quivered and he cleared his throat to stop the laugh that would have escaped. "He's a good man. A little quiet, but you get past that."

"Sure, whatever you say, Mr. Corinthos. Look, I'm an art student and I really only came here to see if I could paint the place. Is there anyone I should ask or can I just go ahead and set up right here?"

"You should talk to Jason about that."

"What do you think I was over there doing?" Elizabeth laughed. "The arrogant jerk looked at me like I had three eyes."

"That's just Jason. He's not very good with women."

She rolled her eyes and hoisted her backpack up higher on her shoulder. "That's an understatement. Tell me something, Sonny. How long has it been since he's talked?"

Sonny looked up at the sky trying to remember. "Well, let's see, it started back in June..."

"June? My God! How can anyone not talk for months?!" she interjected astounded at the sheer willpower it would take for someone like herself to last that long.

"Not this June, Miss Webber. He's going on two years and a few months."

Elizabeth cringed. "Oh, Jesus, and there I was babbling about how I can't stop talking. He must think I'm a total ditz."

"I'm sure it's fine. Jason's not the type of person to judge someone. I'm sure it'll be okay if you sketch the grounds. And if you're still here by supper, stop in and join us," Sonny offered, smiling widely.

"Oh, I don't think that's necessary. I don't want to put you out."

"Really, it's no trouble. We serve in the dining hall and then the staff eats in our own house. You'd be a welcome edition."

"Well, thank you, Mr. Corinthos. It's very nice of you," Elizabeth commented, flicking her hair off her shoulder and sauntering toward some of the more historic statues littered across the lawn.

* * *

Jason hurried inside, grabbing a quick shower and a change of clothes before he came into the kitchen to sit with Sonny. The room appeared empty. Moving to the window he looked over his shoulder making sure he was alone. 

He'd been completely taken aback. He hadn't expected something like this. Because he'd taken precautions and had shut himself off from these kinds of chance encounters, avoiding going into town as much as possible and keeping himself busy. He wasn't looking for female companionship.

But then he saw her…

And it was as if he'd been kicked in the gut.

She had been talking to him…and then yelling at him and he couldn't seem to focus long enough to offer some sort of response. The only way he kept his sanity was to continue his workout as if she wasn't even there. Hell, at first he'd thought he had imagined her...

But she was _very_ real.

He studied her through the thick pane of glass, swallowing the desire that flitted to life inside him. Her face was flawless…a soft, creamy white, so youthful, yet pained, troubled. Although she seemed to hide it well. It bothered him that someone beautiful, like herself, would be susceptible to such expressions of displeasure.

Sonny came into the room quietly. He smiled slightly when he noticed Jason looking longingly out the window.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Sonny asked Jason, while stirring the large pot of spaghetti sauce.

Jason nodded absently, letting the red hue creep onto his cheeks against his will.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Remembering Tibet  
Author: Kat/Yuppiekat  
Rating: R  
Disclaimer: I don't own...well, anything pertaining to GH.  
Summary: This is an Alternate Universe fic. (And, possibly, a strange one at that.)-- The past haunts Jason and Elizabeth. In order to heal, they'll need each other.  
Notes: There are a few things that you should know about this fic... This fic was started (I believe) in 2002, but time constraints and frustration about the show stalled the writing of this fic. I am in the middle of re-reading and revising all the chapters. I'm not sure how often I can post. I wish I had more time to work on this, but you'll have to settle for a sporadic posting schedule. The character of Lucky is, well, very out of character. I'm aware of that. There is also a lot of head hopping in this fic... Um, sorry about that.

* * *

Jason sat down on one of the small chairs in the kitchen leafing through his mail. 

Sonny continued to cook dinner, periodically looking out at Elizabeth.

"She must be cold," Sonny finally said.

Jason looked up and shrugged his shoulders feigning disinterest. In reality, he was anything but disinterested. This pixie of a woman fascinated him. There was something so…alluring about her.

There was just…_something_ about her that made him feel, in some way, connected. And he hadn't felt that way, or even wanted to, in a long time. She did something to him. He'd never felt such a strong pull to anyone.

She'd made it hard for him to ignore her. That was for sure. She had this way about her. There was this completely charming habit of rambling on she had, and looking so damn sexy when she did…even when she wasn't making complete sense.

Damn.

He was in trouble.

"Well, let's see if she can't be persuaded to come inside." With a clever smile on his face, Sonny opened the window and let the wind carry the smells from the kitchen in Elizabeth's direction.

Jason's eyes narrowed into slits.

"Don't look at me like that," Sonny said.

It might have been a long time since Jason had uttered a single word, but that didn't mean Sonny didn't understand exactly what Jason was thinking.

* * *

Elizabeth's hands were freezing. Sometimes the world had a way of getting away from her when she was immersed in her art. She'd been sketching for over two hours and in that time the sun had started to fade and the wind had picked up. She shivered against the wooden bench where she sat. Looking back at the house, she sighed deeply. She could smell a wonderful meal being cooked inside. If she wasn't so stubborn and afraid of running into Mute Boy, she might actually take Sonny up on his offer of dinner. The school's cafeteria food wasn't exactly something to brag about. 

The rumble in her stomach was getting louder and she knew sooner or later she would either have to head home and eat a lovely meal prepared in her microwave from a box or can _or_ swallow her pride and sit down to the fine foods Sonny had prepared. Something told her that whatever he cooked would be delicious. It was just the way he carried himself. Wearing his apron so proudly and inviting her to his table like it was going to be as great as the second coming.

But still, Jason would most likely be there and would most likely be thinking evil thoughts about her. And right now she just didn't need that. She'd had enough negative energy for one day.

Since the afternoon, after leaving that pathetic excuse for an art class, with a less than encouraging Professor, her nerves were shot. She didn't think she could take any more criticism right now and especially none from a man who embodied confidence.

Although she was feeling better now about the class and her ability to create something that might show the professor that she _did_ have talent. She had actually sketched quite a bit. The trees, the landscape and as hard as she tried not to, she even snuck in one of Mr. Karate himself.

Hating to admit it, the one of Jason was her best work in a long time. His strong features and purely masculine force made her hand take on a life of its own. She hadn't been able to stop herself. She'd _had_ to draw him.

Her stomach growled again and despite better judgment, she picked up her art supplies and backpack and headed towards the place Sonny and Jason called home.

One small knock on the door and Sonny was ushering her inside, already handing her a mug of hot chocolate. "Miss Webber, I'm so glad you decided to come after all," he said, with an innocent smile that had Jason snorting in the background.

"Yeah, well, I could smell dinner all the way across the field and I have to admit I didn't eat much at lunch today," Elizabeth recalled, grabbing her stomach to quiet the tiny noises of hunger. "Is there someplace I could freshen up?" she asked, running her fingers through her tousled hair.

"Oh, sure. Just out towards the dinning room, take a left, then a right...actually, Jason will show you. Jason?" Sonny winked slyly at Jason.

Jason shook his head in obvious disagreement, ruffling the papers he was sifting through.

"Oh no, really, that's not necessary. I'm sure I can find it," Elizabeth argued.

Her face flushed. This was a _bad_ idea. She couldn't bear to look at Jason, sure he was more than reluctant to act as tour guide for her, much less be in the same room with her.

When she turned, reiterating Sonny's instructions in her head, moving out of the kitchen, Jason was right by her side. They stood still, neither wanting to make the first move. Finally, Jason maneuvered his way in front of her, just barely brushing her shoulder, edging past her and taking the lead. Elizabeth walked quickly to keep up with his long strides.

And she did _not_ check out his butt. Okay, so maybe just a little.

Standing in front of the bathroom door, Jason waited until she caught up before he started walking back to the kitchen to rejoin Sonny.

"Wait!" she called after him.

Oh, God. She was going to regret this.

He turned and looked down at her.

She nervously bit her bottom lip, unsure now under his watchful eye what to say.

"I-I, um, just wanted to say that I, uh, I-I'm sorry about earlier," she stammered, looking down at the hand-woven rug under her feet like it was the most interesting piece of material ever created.

Jason waved a hand in the air, dismissing the entire episode. Or was it _her_ he was dismissing? Either way, he was back down the hall before she had a chance to ask.

God, she was such an idiot!

Returning, feeling refreshed, she met Sonny in the dinning room where Jason and two other men were already seated. Thankful for small miracles she was as far away from Jason as she could manage. Her eyes grew large when she saw the steaming bowl of pasta, salads and freshly baked bread.

Taking a slice from the wooden bowl, she had it to her mouth and was about to take a bite when one of the men cleared his throat. Looking around the table, she realized everyone had their heads bowed and no one was eating. Feeling very foolish, she dropped the bread to her plate and did what they did.

"Bless us our Lord for the wonderful gifts you have graced us with," Sonny began. "We thank you for our health and the wonderful meal we have before us. We thank you for friends," Sonny continued, looking around the table, "We also thank you for our new friend, Elizabeth Webber. Please watch over her. In the name of the Lord, Amen."

Elizabeth's head shot up and she turned to Sonny. He gave her a grand smile and she knew his words were genuine. Flashing her eyes over to Jason, she saw not an ounce of emotion on his face and for some reason that bothered her. Why couldn't he be warm and friendly like Sonny was? She had already apologized, what more did the guy want?

Finally, after waiting not-so-patiently Elizabeth popped the piece of bread into her mouth and closed her eyes when the hot dough practically melted from the heat when she chewed. She wondered if she had actually moaned while she ate because, really, the food was that good.

She learned that the men across from her were Johnny and Francis. They used to work for Sonny. They didn't live with them at the monastery, but came a few nights a week for dinner. When Elizabeth heard this, she was almost envious. What would it be like to have Sonny cook for a person everyday? Sinful, she supposed.

On her third helping of pasta she was finally satisfied and stuffed to the brim, but when Sonny brought out a chocolate cake, she couldn't help but take a small piece.

It seemed strange at dinner, that while conversation flowed and they shared a few laughs, that Jason just sat there. She knew he had taken a vow of silence, but he seemed withdrawn, not even listening to the things around him. Sometimes she would feel his eyes on her and for some reason her stomach would drop with nervous energy.

After helping with the dishes—it was the least she could do--Elizabeth gathered her art supplies and made her way toward Sonny. "Thank you so much, Sonny. I've never felt more welcome in my entire life."

And that was the truth. No one had ever accepted her so blindly and without pretense in her entire life. It warmed her heart. She kissed him on the cheek and, surprisingly, he blushed.

"I don't think I can eat again for a week," she said with a note of humor to her voice.

"Anytime you want to come back, a place will be set for you," he said softly. "Should I call a cab?"

"No, I'll be fine. I like to walk and it's so nice out." She smiled warmly and headed for the door.

"Oh, no, Elizabeth, you can't walk home alone. It's late and dark and no place for a woman like you. Jason will walk you home," Sonny insisted. "Won't you, Jason?"

Again the look on the other man's face was unreadable. His eyes were blank slates and for once she wished he would just smile at her or _something_. Just to show her that there was someone lurking behind those icy blue eyes. Couldn't he just be someone that accepted her just as easily as Sonny had? Or, if not, just give her some type of sign that he was trying.

They didn't have to be best friends forever, but he could just give her a little hint that her efforts weren't going unnoticed. He made her feel uneasy and she didn't like feeling like she wasn't in total control. At least if she knew his intentions, she could push those feelings to the side. But he was, as always, stoic.

"Really, Sonny, I'm sure Jason has more important things to do than walk me home. I'll be fine."

As much as she protested, it was a losing battle.

Jason went to what she supposed was the closet and took out a leather jacket. Fitting it over his shoulders, he walked toward her. As soon as they were out of the house they were assaulted by the cold winds.

Elizabeth pulled her jacket tighter around herself.

Jason seemed to be unaffected.

"You really don't have to do this," Elizabeth gasped, trying to get her breath that was being stolen from the cold. He barely looked in her direction so she continued, "I walk home alone all the time. It's no big deal."

Hugging herself to keep away the chill, she was momentary taken aback when she felt the heavy weight of Jason's leather jacket around her shoulders. She took a few steps to distance them, bracing herself for whatever might happen next. But when he only stood there, waiting, she came out of her fighting stance and straightened her spine. The jacket was warm and soft against her cheek when she looked up at him gratefully and smiled.

"Thanks," she all but whispered.

Jason simply nodded and continued to walk beside her.

Walking next to him Elizabeth was humbled by the brute force of his existence. He was a huge man compared to her small frame and the heir of confidence that exuded from him made her more than a little nervous. He didn't look like he would hurt her, not really, but with his build and strength he could if he wanted to.

His shoulders were square, cut and defined. And under that shirt she knew there was more muscle than on a purebred racing horse. He had lean, strong legs stuffed into black boots and a slender waist embossed in denim. Stealing a quick glance his way, she studied his face. He had a strong jaw, sculpted cheekbones and a mouth that would send a nun to confession thinking of the things it was capable of. Smooth, supple lips fit for kissing.

Of all the traits Jason had and didn't have, the one thing that troubled Elizabeth the most were his eyes. They were a steely blue, the color of the sky after a hard thunderstorm. But beyond that, she couldn't make out a single inkling of emotion. There was not one ounce of feeling behind the cold stare and lengthy shield of lashes.

The lack of conversation began to needle her. Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. As much as she was curious about the man who was walking her home, she was as equally apprehensive. Did she really want to know or even care who he was?

The answer sprang to her mind faster than she could blink.

Yes, she did.

And that couldn't be a good thing.

She had nothing left to say and obviously Jason had nothing to contribute so she kept quiet the remainder of the walk.

"This is it," Elizabeth announced when they came to the building that harbored the studio she called home.

Turning towards the big man beside her, Elizabeth tilted her head to the side, studying him. "I haven't figured you out yet, but I will."

It was saucy, she knew it, but did she care? He obviously had already formed an opinion of her so what did it matter what she said now. With that, she headed toward the door, yelling a "thanks" over her shoulder and mounting the steps. When she looked back, she could have sworn she saw a smile before he headed back the way they had come, but she knew she had to be mistaken.

By the time she realized she was still wearing his coat, he was already gone and it was too late to catch up to him.

Locking the door behind her, Elizabeth slipped the jacket from her shoulders and studied the garment. The leather was soft and worn-in like a really good baseball mitt. Before she could stop herself, she brought it to her nose and took in a deep breath. Fresh pine, leather and a deep musk greeted her senses. It was a warm combination that had her cheeks blazing at the sheer obscurity of wondering how it would smell on him. She took another breath, wondering if there was something she was missing. Faintly, she could smell clean soap and now her own perfume. She almost laughed at the thought of him pulling his jacket on to smell _her_ now embedded in the fibers.

Later, while Elizabeth lay in bed, her eyes tightly shut, images of Jason played in her head. What bothered her most was that she really couldn't read him; had no idea what he was thinking or feeling. That he excited her and scared her all at the same time was unsettling.

In the morning when she awoke the first image she saw was the black leather laid out on a chair across from her makeshift bed. She would have to give it back. The weather was already getting cooler and he would need it. The smallest of smiles passed her lips. She reached for the phone.

* * *

"Liz, really, you could have done this on your own. All you have to do is say: "Here's your jacket. Thanks!" and then walk away. Is it really that hard?" Trisha said, rolling her eyes. 

"You don't understand. He's just...he... I dunno. I can't describe it. I think he scares me," Elizabeth admitted quietly.

Trisha stopped and turned to face her best friend. "He didn't try anything with you, did he? So help me, I'll give him a good kick in the-"

"Relax! Nothing happened." Liz reached to pull her hair out of her face, ignoring the wind that kept misplacing it.

"Well then, what is it about him that scares you?"

"It's hard to put into words. It's just the way he looks at me. It's like he knows what I'm thinking. I know it sounds weird." She laughed at herself. "Listen to me. I'm making it sound like he works for the Psychic Friends Network. Enough about Jason, tell me about Mr. Human Sexuality."

"Bob."

"Huh?"

"His name is Bob." Trisha sighed.

"Oh."

"Elizabeth, can you really see me involved with a guy named Bob? I mean, it's a perfectly fine name. Lots of people marry Bob's," she said.

"You're not like lots of people, Harper," Elizabeth pointed out. "Now cut the shit and tell me what the real problem is. You've never had a problem with whose name you scream in the middle of sex, so why now?"

Trisha had to take a double-take to make sure it was still Liz she was walking with. "You're awfully blunt this morning."

"Yeah, and you're being evasive and trying to change the subject, so spill."

"Do you think I have a problem?" Harper fished.

Elizabeth studied her friend not sure where this was headed. "Problem? Many. Now can we narrow it down? Which problem are we talking about?"

"With sex? Do you think I'm obsessed?" she asked point-blank, grabbing Elizabeth to halt her movements.

"Oh jeez! Have you been talking to Lucky again?" she scoffed. "Trisha, there is nothing wrong with you. What's the difference between a man who has lots of partners and a woman? The answer: society. I can't believe I have to stand here and reiterate your own philosophy of the double standards enforced by society to give modern women the feeling that they are being immoral. You yourself have said it a thousand times: you're no one's standard! You do what you want and don't take shit from anybody, so why now?"

"I'm getting old, Elizabeth. My party girl routine can't last forever." Trisha sighed.

Elizabeth could see the faint signs of tears in her confidant's eyes. Oh, man. Sometimes, she didn't always understand Trisha and the choices she made. It was difficult to see her go from pointless relationship to pointless relationship. She deserved better than flings and casual sex. But she was her friend and Liz supported her in whatever decisions she made. If Trisha wanted to cool down her indulgent lifestyle, Liz was all for it. Whatever made her happy. Hell, if she started wearing bright red polka dots and clown make-up that would be okay, too. Just as long as it was what she wanted. That's all she really hoped for.

"Old? You're twenty-five for God's sake!" Elizabeth huffed. "What is this really about?"

Shifting from one foot to the other, Harper found it almost impossible to look Liz in the eye. "I think I'm ready to settle down."

"With who?"

Trisha looked Liz in the eye and shrugged.

"Oh God, don't even say it!" She held her hand to her mouth to bear the brunt of the impact of the gasp that had escaped.

"Come on, Liz, he really isn't all that bad. He has his good qualities," Trisha said, innocently.

"Yeah? Name two," Liz drawled, sarcastically.

"He's persistent."

"Fine, I'll give you that one, but in other places that's just another name for obsessive stalker. Are you sure you didn't hit your head during your little escapades last night?" Elizabeth snorted.

Everything in Trisha was telling her to hide, to retreat. She wasn't the type of person to think about the future. Wasn't the type to care if she ever got married, but lately the prospect was weighing her down. But who was she to be married? Trisha Harper…better known on campus as the party girl who can't--and doesn't want to--settle down with anyone. She certainly was not someone capable of making a real commitment. After all, wasn't she the one time-after-time that moved onto the next man before her body even had a chance to cool down from the last? She was not the marrying type…even if she wanted to be. And so, she did what she does best and made her situation out to be some complete lie. Somewhere between the lies though, the real Trisha Harper lived, but was too afraid to come out of hiding.

Because one version of the truth might be that sometimes she got tired of maintaining an image. Of living up to a reputation she wasn't all that proud of anymore. But people expected things of her. She wasn't respectable or chaste like Elizabeth. No one was ever cautious with her feelings…or even acknowledged that she had any.

But, maybe, that was a bit of a lie, too. Maybe there was one person. And as scary and hard as it was to admit, Lucky didn't ever make her feel like she was cheap or good for only one thing.

And maybe that frightened her more than she wanted to admit.

If she did choose to be with someone that actually respected her, that made her feel special and appreciated, she knew Liz would be behind her one-hundred percent, but first she had to admit the truth to herself. And she just wasn't ready for that yet.

"He can really take a joke, unlike yourself!" Trisha wailed, barely able to contain her laughter. "I'm kidding, Lizzie!"

"What? Harper, you idiot! You better start running," Elizabeth said through gritted teeth.

Here she thought her friend needed her and it was all just some joke at her expense. Elizabeth wasn't entirely sure what to believe. Trisha seemed so sincere. She wasn't going to press the issue, though.

"Ha, you should see the look on your face! Come on, Liz, like I would ever go for Spence. You are so gullible." Harper laughed and this time she tried not to make it sound forced.

"You think this is funny? I really thought you had lost it there for a minute."

"Right!" She laughed softly, concealing any real emotions. "That's what you get for dragging me out of bed at eight in the morning to return a stupid jacket all the way across town in the freezing cold. Remind me again why we couldn't take a cab?"

"The walk will be good for you. Maybe I should go alone if you can't handle it though," she said to her, annoyed.

"Elizabeth, I was just trying to lighten the mood. Tell me more about this Jason."

"There's nothing to tell."

"There must be something. What does he look like?" Trisha asked, perking up.

"I don't know," Liz said, avoiding eye contact. She picked up the pace.

"You must know. You spent the entire afternoon with him. He walked you home. You must have noticed something about him."

"First of all, I didn't spend the afternoon with him. I was sketching and only saw him briefly at dinner. Nothing eventful happened, so stop trying to make it into something it's not," Elizabeth huffed, throwing her hands in the air.

What was she supposed to say, that the man was all muscle and hard lines and that when she first saw him she wanted to touch him to make sure he wasn't a figment of her imagination? Because, looking the way he did, he very well could have been.

"Calm down, Webber," Trisha breathed, trying to keep up with Elizabeth's pace. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have done that to you."

"It's okay," Liz said, meeting the blonde in the eye. "I think it's his eyes."

"What?"

"The thing that scares me. He has these blue eyes that are like granite. His gaze is like...like stone and even the color doesn't make up for the intensity of them. They're so blue, but so cold," Elizabeth confessed, recalling his piercing glare.

"Sounds sexy as hell to me!" Trisha admitted, trying to imagine the man that had so obviously gotten under Elizabeth's skin.

"You would think that!" she snorted. "Now come on; it's just over the bend."

Sonny and Jason stood just outside their house going over plans to secure the property for the upcoming winter.

Sonny was in another fashionable outfit, complete with trench coat and dark shades.

Jason was dressed casually in jeans, motorcycle boots and a long sleeved shirt. Despite the cold, he didn't seem to be feeling it.

Elizabeth and Trisha came up the walk laughing and talking, having made up from their small tiff.

"Which one is he?" Harper asked Liz when they got closer.

"The one without a jacket, genius," Elizabeth said sardonically.

"Oh, right!" Trisha studied the men, took in Jason's lean body and short trimmed hair.

"Damn, Liz, that's who you're afraid of?!"

"Keep your voice down! And I didn't say I was afraid of him, I just said..."

"Uh huh." Trisha nodded, picking up the pace. "He's gorgeous." She smiled, letting her eyes drink him in.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, pretending that she hadn't noticed the obvious fact. "Is that all you think about?"

When Trisha simply shrugged her shoulders, Elizabeth knew her attempt to restrain her friend was falling on deaf ears. "Forget I asked."

"Introduce me." Trisha grabbed her compact from her purse and checked to make sure her make-up was perfect--which, of course, it was.

"Huh?"

"Come on, you have to talk to them anyway to give back the jacket, so introduce me and make sure you build me up a little. Okay?"

"Sure, Harper, whatever you say."

"How's my hair?" Trisha asked keeping her eyes trained on Jason Morgan.

"Good."

"Clothes?"

"Fine."

"Do I have anything in my teeth?"

"Didn't you just look in the mirror? What's the sense of asking if you already know?"

"Oh, Liz, you just don't get it."

"Get what?" Liz asked confused.

"Exactly."

"You know, Trisha, you get weirder the more you hang out with Lucky Spencer. Are you sure that was really a joke earlier?"

"Cute, Liz. Now stop stalling and call over to them."

Elizabeth waited until they were closer so she wouldn't have to yell. She took a deep breath. For some reason she felt nervous. Perhaps it had something to do with the way she had treated Jason the day before, or perhaps it was the fact that she had spent the night dreaming about him… Whatever it was, it didn't seem to be going away.

"Jason?!" she called weakly.

Both men turned and seemed genuinely surprised to see her. The butterflies began to kick-box in her stomach and her cheeks felt hot.

"Elizabeth, I didn't expect to see you so soon," Sonny said, walking towards them.

"Oh, I-I just came to give Jason back his jacket," she offered, holding out the leather for Jason when he came up behind Sonny. "Thanks," she said softly to Jason when he took it from her.

"That was nice of you. And who do you have with you?" Sonny offered his hand and took Trisha's smaller one, delivering a small peck to her knuckles. Oh yeah, Sonny was the charmer of the two.

Jason just stood there, holding his jacket and sizing up Trisha.

"This is my very best friend, Trisha Harper. She's an art student, too. Much better than I am," Elizabeth added, building her up like she promised, even though both of them knew it wasn't true. "Trisha, this is Mr. Corinthos and over there is Jason Morgan."

"Please, call me Sonny." He smiled and winked at Elizabeth. "Don't let the brooding fool you, he's a nice guy under all the grease and leather." Sonny laughed.

Trisha presented her hand to the other man and gave him a bright smile.

Almost reluctantly Jason took her hand in his for a quick shake and then released it.

"Ah, the strong, silent type," she joked.

"More like the mute and miserable." Elizabeth scowled, saying the words under her breath.

When she looked up, Jason was eyeing her and for a brief moment she thought he might have heard her.

"Why don't you ladies come in for some hot chocolate?" Sonny suggested. "I make it myself from scratch. Real chocolate and everything."

"Oh that would be..."

"We can't," Elizabeth interjected not letting her friend finish.

"We can't?" Harper asked, darting looks between Liz, Jason and Sonny. Her eyes were begging to stay.

A small part of Elizabeth felt bad, but the other part, the one that knew she was just trying to sink her teeth into Jason, didn't give a crap if she had to drag Trisha off the property. They were _not_ staying.

"Liz, can I speak to you for a moment, in private? You'll excuse us, won't you?"

"By all means," Sonny said with a twinkle in his eye.

Harper dragged Elizabeth around the corner. "Why can't we stay?"

"Look, the only reason I even came here was so I could give back that damn jacket. I still have to sketch something for Dr. Sharpy's class. Have you even started anything yet?"

"I'm working on it," she said absently, eyes fixed on Jason.

"Well, fine then, you stay and I'll go."

"Oh, Elizabeth, don't be like that," Trisha whined.

She took a deep breath and looked back at her friend. What was she getting herself into?

Harper continued to eye Jason, scanning his physique like he was a decadent piece of chocolate cake she was about to devour. "Look at him, he's huge. I bet he's got a big-"

"Trisha, if you even think of finishing that sentence, I swear I will leave right now!" Elizabeth said in a controlled yet exhausted voice.

"Relax, Liz," she laughed. "Sometimes you can be so uptight."

Elizabeth followed Trisha back over to the pair who had been eyeing them. Jason's stare was particularly unnerving.

"Great news, boys! We can stay after all!" Trisha exclaimed, stepping between the two men and flashing a dangerous smile.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Remembering Tibet  
Author: Kat/Yuppiekat  
Rating: R  
Disclaimer: I don't own...well, anything pertaining to GH.  
Summary: This is an Alternate Universe fic. (And, possibly, a strange one at that.)-- The past haunts Jason and Elizabeth. In order to heal, they'll need each other.  
Notes: There are a few things that you should know about this fic... This fic was started (I believe) in 2002, but time constraints and frustration about the show stalled the writing of this fic. I am in the middle of re-reading and revising all the chapters. I'm not sure how often I can post. I wish I had more time to work on this, but you'll have to settle for a sporadic posting schedule. The character of Lucky is, well, very out of character. I'm aware of that. There is also a lot of head hopping in this fic... Um, sorry about that.

* * *

"Great news, boys! We can stay after all!" Trisha exclaimed, stepping between the two men and flashing a dangerous smile. 

Elizabeth was not good at saying no, especially not to her overly-excited best friend. She took in a deep breath. _This_ was going to be an adventure.

Jason distanced himself from Trisha, when she tried to latch onto his arm, picking up the plans he and Sonny had been going over instead.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Could he be any more of a jerk?

"That's terrific! Would you like a tour of the property?" Sonny asked, looking between the two beauties.

Trisha beamed.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, shyly looked at the ground. She wasn't used to being called a beauty. She wasn't used to compliments at all, unless Lucky's false come-ons counted—which, they didn't.

But how could they turn that offer down? Elizabeth was anxious to see any part of the property she had yet to venture onto. And having a tour guide to point out anything she might have missed along the way sounded great.

Sonny just had a way of making a person feel like they were the most important person _ever _when he talked. His smile was almost always present and his laugh was soft and genuine, never forced.

Trisha latched onto Sonny's outstretched elbow, while Elizabeth chose to trail a short distance behind the pair.

She watched the distinguished, darker man leading them down a long path on the grounds. He was a definite contrast to Jason. Where Jason was fair-haired, Sonny was dark-headed with tiny curls that lay tucked behind his ears. Jason was blank and cold, but Sonny was warm and friendly. A little shorter and not as built, Sonny made Elizabeth feel at ease, unlike Jason, who made her nervous and cautious.

Jason didn't come with them while they explored the great expanse of land. He simply watched the trio stroll away from the house, talking animatedly.

Sonny explained to Trisha and Elizabeth all the history that came with the property.

There were many statues. There was a stone horse on the outskirts of a group of bald poplars. A cracked fountain in the courtyard, split, he'd said, by a bolt of lightning when it hit the metal rod supporting the structure in the middle. Lastly, there was a statue of a girl with a long dress and expressive eyes. Those were her favorites. Then there were the ruins by the bridge—a house Sonny said once stood tall over the field. It looked like it had been a big house, maybe even a beautiful house, but most of the foundation had been bulldozed and Elizabeth had to use her imagination to picture it.

He showed them the church where the Priests delivered Sunday service. Although small, with its wooden insides and stained glass windows, it was still a wonderful sight.

While Sonny and Trisha talked the morning away Elizabeth remained relatively quiet, just relishing in the beauty of the place. There was so much to see and she took note of the places she would come back to later, alone.

When they returned full circle and came back to the house, Jason was nowhere in sight.

Elizabeth didn't know whether that made her happy or not.

"Why don't the two of you stay for lunch?" Sonny offered, pleased to have the company.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea!" Trisha raved. "Liz?"

"Sure, why not." Elizabeth gave her best smile and followed them into the house.

It was a nice place, warm and inviting. She really hadn't noticed the day before, being too hungry and too nervous to care. The kitchen was large, with all the appliances any professional chef would be obliged to have. There was a small table in the corner with a few chairs and the morning paper was still unfolded where someone had been reading.

The colors were warm, deep green and sage coated the walls and trim. Stepping into the dinning room, she was now aware of the elegance and glamour. It wasn't flashy or gaudy but tactfully decorated. Trisha commented on it and Sonny smiled, brushing off the compliment.

"Sonny, is it all right if I use the bathroom? I remember where it is from yesterday," Elizabeth asked, feeling her bladder take precedence over watching Trisha to make sure she didn't act--well, like Trisha.

"Sure, sure. Go ahead."

"Thanks," Elizabeth tossed over her shoulder and made her way down the hall and towards the bathroom.

Stepping into the bathroom, she did her business. Washing her hands, she spared a quick glance at herself. The wind had wreaked havoc on her hair and she tried her best to straighten it. Pulling lipstick from her purse, she reapplied a thin layer and meshed her lips together in an exaggerated pop. Satisfied that she looked half-decent, she smiled to herself. But soon, that smile changed into a confused smirk.

Why they heck was she going to so much trouble? Deep in the back of her brain, she knew it had everything to do with a certain blonde, muscle bound hunk who, at present, was nowhere to be seen. And, in the off-chance she should run into him, she would need to look her best, if for no other reason than to make him notice her.

Not that she wanted to be noticed. Of course not. The thought was ludicrous. The last thing in the world she needed was to get the attention of Jason Morgan, right?

Lost in thought, Elizabeth sauntered down the hallway, making her way back to what she thought was the dinning room. She supposed she'd taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way when the hallway abruptly ended and she was left standing in front of a wall. Turning back around, she tried to retrace her steps but ended up in some other room she supposed was the study, if the tall shelves of books were any indication. Standing in place, she went over the trail she had taken in her head. If she could make it back to the bathroom, she was pretty sure she could find her way back. The only problem with that she'd lost track of where said bathroom actually was. The house was a lot bigger and more confusing than she'd originally thought. At least that was her ongoing conclusion.

Stepping backwards, her foot crunched down on something behind her. Something she was almost positive was another, much larger, foot. She turned slowly, her face streaked red in embarrassment. Standing in front of her was Jason.

She took a step backward at the exact time he took one forward. She tried to move out of the way, to the side, to the front, backwards, mimicking his movements while they did an obscure dance trying to get out of each other's way. Forward, backward, sideways… Everything got jumbled and Elizabeth found herself losing her balance in the process. She could feel herself falling. She was tumbling forward with her arms stretched out to brace herself. All sense of direction was lost and she was falling…falling right into Jason Morgan.

His skin was hot and moist, slick under her fingers. Her eyes were fixated on his chest… a naked chest…a chest that was rock solid and glistening fresh from a shower. He smelled soapy and clean and she tried her damnedest not to breathe him in. It was a battle easily lost. Frankly, it wasn't much of a battle. Her tongue slid out to wet her lips. God, she wanted…

His hands automatically wrapped around her to steady her, locking her in his embrace. Her chin brushed his warm flesh and it made the butterflies in her tummy flutter with glee. She was very aware of his breath cascading down her neck and his hands on her hips. They seemed so much bigger now that she actually had the pleasure of feeling them against her. He was massive against her and his tight muscles rippled and flexed while he held her.

That's when she became aware of the light blue towel that encircled his waist and kept him from being fully naked. Wickedly impure thoughts sprang to her mind and she knew if she just pulled slightly the towel would drop to the floor and she would see his "little Morgan." But, taking a quick glance down, she suspected there would be nothing little about that part of his anatomy. Just as quickly as the thought came to her mind she pushed it out and closed her eyes, now unable to even look his way, fearing he could read her thoughts…her dirty, unadulterated thoughts.

Taking a deep breath she said the first thing that came to her mind, "I got lost."

She closed her eyes. Could she have said anything less eloquent? She might as well have just said that she "just went potty." She opened her eyes and found his ice blue ones staring right back at her.

Hands. His hands were _still_ on her. And the thing that got to her most was that she hadn't yet moved away.

For once his eyes weren't empty when he looked at her. She saw something very real, very surprising, and it sparked a fire in her that radiated through her whole body making her hum with excitement.

She saw concern. At least, that's how she interpreted it…

And then it was gone.

He dropped his hands to his side and let her go, shaking his head as if ashamed.

Liz took a few steps back, actually needing the distance to clear her head.

"I...you...um, could you show me the way back to the dinning room?" she finally managed to get out after doing everything humanly possible to forget how amazing he looked in that piece of fabric that normal people called a towel.

One thing was clear, she would never be able to use a blue towel again without picturing him standing so perfectly still like a sculpture, and having all the details necessary to qualify as one helluva piece of art. God, even Michelangelo would be jealous of her now.

Jason looked at her and his gaze was intense. She squirmed under his stare and bit her lip self-consciously.

"Look, how 'bout this - I'll wait here while you change and then you can help me find my way back to the dinning room. Then you won't have to deal with me anymore. Sound like a plan?"

He watched her a moment longer before nodding and retreating to some other part of the house to get dressed.

Elizabeth leaned against the wall closing her eyes and letting out the breath she had been holding. If ever she needed a cold shower, it was now. The man was all muscle and smelled so good she had been tempted to stick out her tongue to see how he tasted.

She had her eyes closed for a while before she heard him rustling in front of her, tucking in his T-shirt.

"That was fast," Elizabeth said lamely, having nothing else to say.

He started walking down the hall and she followed. It wasn't until they were at the threshold to the dinning room that she realized she had left her purse in the bathroom. Without realizing it, she tugged on his arm.

"I forgot my purse. I'm sure I left it in the bathroom. Go on without me. I'll be back in a minute."

He looked down at her skeptically before moving back towards the bathroom, turning once to make sure she was following. He walked into the bathroom, grabbed her purse, gave it to her and then headed back to the dinning room without so much as a glance down at her. He took his usual seat and she took the one she had occupied the night before…far away from him.

Trisha decided to sit right beside Jason, and Liz guessed it wasn't an accident when she grazed his hand reaching for the salt. For the most part she tried to avoid even looking up from her food just in case Jason happened to be looking up at the same time. She couldn't place what it was about Jason that unnerved her and didn't particularly want to find out.

Trisha smiled and chatted away happily with no clue about the underlying tension between Jason and Elizabeth.

"So, Jason, it must be pretty hard to ask women out when you don't speak. How exactly do you get around that?"

Jason nearly choked on his water and began coughing and didn't stop until Sonny hit him hard on the back.

"Uh, Jason doesn't exactly date," Sonny explained.

"Doesn't date? I find that hard to believe. I mean look at you! You're hot and you look like you work out." Harper scanned his physique, readjusting her chair so she could look directly at him.

Jason was squirming in his chair and although Liz found it funny, she still felt bad for him - but just a little.

"Mmm, I'll tell you something. I think we could change that no dating thing real fast, you and me. Is it because you have high standards? Even Liz dates occasionally and her standards are _really _high."

Jason hardly acknowledged her, darted a quick look up and then continued to eat, so Trisha moved on to her next victim, although she still kept Jason in her sights.

"What about you, Sonny? Any special lady in your life?"

"No. I was married once, had a family, but that's all over now," Sonny said sadly, not elaborating.

He didn't owe Trisha anything and the table where they were eating a meal was not the place to air ones dirty laundry.

"Wait a minute...the two of you aren't... you know,_ together_, are you?" Trisha questioned.

It was Sonny's turn to choke. He sputtered red wine onto the table when Jason returned the favor and slapped him on the back with a slight grin.

"Trisha!" Liz exclaimed, embarrassed by her friend's question and even more embarrassed that Harper saw nothing wrong with asking it. "That's an invasion of privacy. What Sonny and Jason are to each other is none of our business!"

Okay, so Liz knew that they weren't gay; couldn't see how they could possibly be, but was playing along for reasons she didn't know.

"Jason and I? Lord no! We're not-We're not gay." Sonny brought his napkin to his mouth, wiping off the wine from his tie also.

"I knew that!" Trisha announced with a triumphant smile. "I'm sorry, it was only a joke. You should have seen the look on your faces."

When both Jason and Sonny turned to Liz for help, she just shrugged her shoulders. "She gets her kicks out of doing things like this. She's like a three-year-old who can't control her impulses. We've tried medication - failed miserably - now we just let her do what she wants and deal with the consequences later. Really, guys, she didn't mean to offend you," Elizabeth apologized.

"No harm done," Sonny said apprehensively.

"Okay, so what's the real reason neither one of you have a pile of women fighting over you? Bad break-ups, broken hearts..."

The wine must have been getting to Elizabeth because she found herself just as eagerly waiting for them to answer. Well, technically she was waiting for Sonny to answer for both of them.

"I lost my wife, end of story," Sonny explained.

"And what's your story, Jase?" Harper put her hand on his forearm and looked into his eyes. "I'll bet no woman has ever resisted you."

To her surprise Jason's eyes flashed to Elizabeth. He cleared his throat, disentangled himself from Trisha and left the table.

"What did I say?" Harper asked, turning her attention on Sonny.

"It's not my place to speak about Jason's personal life. If he wants people to know things, he'll tell them in his own way, but the way he just left, I think that means this is not a subject he's willing to elaborate on. Don't be offended, he's just private," Sonny said with a grin and began to clear the dishes, leaving Elizabeth and Trisha alone.

"I don't know about you, but the less people want you to know about something, the more curious that makes me. I'll bet Jason has broken quite a few hearts in his day. What do you think?"

"Maybe it's just the opposite. Maybe something..._someone _broke his heart," Elizabeth said quietly, biting her lip while she thought about it.

When the women left, Sonny was more than gracious and gave them a plate of food each to take home with them. The entire walk back to Liz's studio Trisha would not shut up about Jason Morgan. Questions, comments, and declarations, none of which were tactful or even remotely appropriate, sprang from Harper's mouth until Liz finally told her to be quiet because she was getting a headache.

They departed on the street corner, Liz going up to her studio and Trisha scouting out the mall for the latest love of her life.

When Elizabeth was finally in the quiet sanctity of her home, she let out a strained breath. All she could think about was Jason and the way he left the table with that cool dormant expression in his eyes. It begged her to wonder about what he was thinking or feeling.

She wanted to know more. Period.

She knew she was getting in too deep.

* * *

Elizabeth couldn't sleep. It was already three in the morning and the more she closed her eyes the more she thought of Jason Morgan. The more she thought of Jason, the more restless she became. Finally fed up, she threw the covers off and stepped out of bed. Pulling her coat over her pajamas, Elizabeth grabbed her sketch book and headed out the door. 

Walking quickly in the dead of nigh, she knew where she was going even if she didn't want to. It was a compulsion. She had to go.

Stepping into the dim church, Elizabeth was shocked to find Jason Morgan sitting in the second row before the altar. Head bent, hands folded in front of him, Jason appeared to be praying. Quietly she eased into the last row and took out her sketch pad.

Maybe it was wrong to sketch him this way while he thought he was alone, but she couldn't help herself. He'd probably come here to be alone; thought he could sit and think by himself. She was invading his space. Invading his privacy and even though she knew it, she couldn't stop her hands from making the lines on the blank white sheet of paper.

She wasn't even aware when he stood and turned, eyes fixed on her. Nor when he walked toward her and stopped just in front of her. Not until his hand reached down and took the book from her hands did she realize she'd been caught.

Startled, she looked up and met his angry gaze. His eyes were hard and dark blue and that same fear began to well up inside her.

"I'm sorry," she told him meekly. "I-I wasn't spying." Elizabeth's voice was shaky and tinted with anxiety. "At least, I didn't mean to. I only came here--see, I couldn't sleep and then I thought of coming here, because I saw the windows this afternoon and thought they'd make nice sketches. But then you were here and you looked…and I just thought… I'm sorry."

She bowed her head and willed the tears that sprang to her eyes not to fall. It didn't make sense to her that she was so upset, but then again nothing ever really made sense in her life.

Jason shook his head, sensing her fear. Did she really think he could hurt her? Maybe she did and that made him sick. Just the thought of it had the bile rising in his stomach, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. What had her life been like that had her so scared now?

Jason stepped forward and didn't miss the way she flinched when he did. The scowl left his face and a look of regret passed his features, and even though Elizabeth refused to look at him, he hoped she knew she was safe with him even if he couldn't tell her that. Gently, he rested the sketches on her lap and turned towards the door.

Closing her eyes, Elizabeth let the tears roll down her cheek. It became clear to her why Jason unsettled her so much. She couldn't pretend with him. He saw through her; knew she was hiding herself most of the time. Knew that she wasn't really so perky, or even happy. That her secrets weren't buried as deep as she'd liked when he was around, because sooner or later, she knew he'd draw them out and that scared her more than anything.

She sat there for a long time, just staring at the pictures she'd drawn and wondering to herself what had made her come to this place at all. By morning she hoped everything would be forgotten.

* * *

Elizabeth found herself wandering down the path that had now become familiar to her. She saw Jason and Sonny in the distance putting up wood to cover the windows for the upcoming winter. 

"Sonny! Hi! This is beginning to become a habit for me." She laughed nervously, ignoring Jason on purpose.

She wasn't sure she could face him. It had taken her an eternity to get dressed that morning and even longer to pull together enough strength to leave the house. She'd gotten back late that morning and was still unclear about her actions from the night before. Running on next to no sleep, she just wanted an outlet to pour out her thoughts; to forget reality.

"If you wouldn't mind...I mean, if it would be alright, do you think I could draw this place again?"

"Miss Webber, you are more than welcome to come here anytime you like. We enjoy having you around. Don't we, Jason?" Sonny smiled and struck Jason playfully in the chest.

Jason grunted in response and picked up the hammer by his side, turned and once again began to nail boards against the windows.

"Don't mind him." Sonny frowned. "He's just as happy to have you here, but will never admit it."

Jason banged the hammer hard in response and both Sonny and Liz stared at him.

"Nice try, Mr. C, but I think Jason would be happy if I never came here again." She smiled. "Too bad for him, I won't do that."

Jason turned, glared at her for a moment and then went back to work.

"I really should be paying you for this though. I know I must be an inconvenience. Not to mention all the times you've fed me." She laughed.

"Believe it or not, Elizabeth, but I've actually really enjoyed your visits."

"I like coming here." She smiled and it was genuine. The truth was, there was just something about the place that made her feel relaxed, really relaxed. She didn't have to fake anything or act like someone else. She could just be, because she was allowed to.

"Sonny?"

"Yes?"

"This time I was thinking that after I finished drawing some of the landscape that maybe..." she hesitated, adverted her eyes.

"What is it, Elizabeth?" he asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"It's kind of silly," she said, "I want to draw you."

"Me?" he asked gesturing to his chest. He laughed and his face grew slightly red. "Well, I can't say I've ever had anyone make that kind of request before. Why would you want to draw me?"

"Do I have to have a reason?" she countered, amused. "Maybe while you're cooking or something… I think that would make a nice picture, don't you?"

Sonny was beaming. He had already come to adore Liz as if she was his kid sister and he barely knew her. "I think that would be fine. Maybe you should see if Jason would pose for you too."

"Oh no, that's alright." It was her turn to blush. If Sonny only knew about the dozen or so drawings she had already sketched of the silent wonder...

"I'll be back in an hour or so," she said, smiling, and walked down the path to sit on a bench and think out her next sketch.

Elizabeth watched Jason from the corner of her eye. He was hard at work nailing boards to the windows and making sure the house was secure. Winter was coming and to prevent damage from the storms that were sure to come with it they needed to protect the older house.

Pulling out her sketchbook, Elizabeth focused her attention away from Jason and tried to look for a subject. She found a tree with leaves that were constantly falling with the wind. Soon it would be barren and be a shadow of its former self. She decided it would make a fine subject. Hopefully she would be able to capture the sadness of it and prove to Dr. Sharpy that she was worthy.

An hour later, Elizabeth looked from her picture to the tree. It was a fine resemblance, but not much else. "Some artist you are, Webber," she scolded herself aloud.

Picking up her things, she headed to the house. Sonny was just coming down the stairs when she entered the front door. The weird thing was that she hadn't even thought about knocking, she felt that comfortable, but now wondered if she was being rude. "I'm sorry I didn't knock, I just figured..."

"It's fine," Sonny cut in, readjusting his clothes.

"You changed," she pointed out with a slight smirk on her face.

Sonny looked himself over. He wanted to look his best when Elizabeth sketched him and had spent half-an-hour trying on different things to wear. He didn't know why it was important but it seemed to have made sense at the time. "Oh, I just thought this would be better... I could go change back," he said, gesturing to the stairwell that led to his bedroom.

"No, no, it's alright. You look very handsome," she complimented.

He wore grey slacks and a burgundy dress shirt, his hair was combed back and slightly slick from styling mouse.

"Thank you. Now where should I stand?" Sonny looked around the kitchen, gesturing to places that might be best.

Elizabeth walked over to the man she now considered a friend and put her hands on his forearms. "Sonny, _relax_."

He looked down at her and gave a nervous smile.

"First of all, let's undo these buttons. You look like you're choking," she said, laughing, and reached for the collar of his shirt.

Jason watched from the doorway of the kitchen. His arms were folded in front of his massive chest and he leaned his shoulder into the frame of the entryway.

Elizabeth's small fingers undid the top two buttons of Sonny's shirt and then smoothed down the rest of it. She handed him his usual apron and watched while he put it on. "See now. There. That's the Sonny I know. Now just be yourself. Go about doing what you would normally do." She walked backward towards the kitchen table where she had left her pencils and paper.

Jason cleared his throat and came into the room, darting his eyes between the two.

"Hey, Jason. Elizabeth is going to draw me." Sonny beamed. He took out a large frying pan from the cupboard below the sink.

Jason nodded his head with little interest.

"I told her she should ask you to model for her, too."

Jason turned, fixed his gaze on Liz and it gave her chills.

"I told you that's okay, Sonny. I don't want to bother Jason." Looking down at her paper, Elizabeth began to make Sonny's outline not daring to look at Jason's reaction to her refusal to ask him for help. She knew they were both thinking the same thing. That she _had_ drawn him against his will and hadn't told Sonny about their little incident.

Jason shrugged his shoulders and sat in the chair across from her, picking up a travel book and putting an end to the subject.

Sonny took out the bundle of pork chops he'd gotten fresh from the market in the afternoon and began to slice them butterfly-style so he could stuff them with herbs and spices.

Elizabeth licked her lips, unconsciously, thinking how great dinner was going to be. It was assumed, of course, that she would be staying.

Jason watched Elizabeth concentrate on drawing his best friend and stifled a groan when her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. He couldn't believe his luck. The most beautiful woman he'd ever seen was falling for Sonny. Jason scoffed and went back to reading about Egypt.

"What was that for?" Elizabeth shot daggers at Jason. Even though he never said a word, she was beginning to be able to read his moods and right now, she could tell something was wrong. Jason looked up at her and shrugged.

"Don't give me that! You obviously have a problem with me being here."

Sonny put down the mallet he was holding and wiped his hands on his apron. "Of course Jason wants you here," he soothed.

"No, he doesn't. He always looks at me like I don't belong. Like I shouldn't be here and I'm starting to think he's right. You're my friend Sonny and I like being here, but I can't stand him looking at me like that for another minute! Maybe I should just leave and never come back," Elizabeth stated, willing control over her emotions.

She hated the fact that Jason could barely stand to have her around and that every time she was there he stayed away. Sonny was always telling her what a great guy he was, but she had yet to see it.

Jason had to keep his jaw from dropping. He gritted his teeth and kept his eyes blank. He didn't mean to look at her the way he did, but dammit he was jealous. It was always Sonny that women wanted. Sonny was normal and knew how to talk to ladies. Jason - when he was talking - was awkward and always came out sounding stupid. At least, that's what he thought.

So, yes, he looked at Elizabeth, but not out of contempt, but out of envy. Sometimes he even saw parts of himself behind her haunted eyes…knew that if anyone could understand him, it would be her.

"You know, I think you two just got off on the wrong foot. Why don't you shake on it and start over?" Sonny suggested, knowing very well that Jason never intended to hurt the young lady and probably liked having her around much more than he would ever let on.

"Elizabeth? Jason?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath and swallowed her pride. "I'm willing, if he is."

"I guess it's up to you now, Jason. What'dya say?"

Jason presented his hand and Elizabeth accepted, immediately feeling the jolt of energy that went through her. She stared up at him and he caught her eyes and wouldn't let go. His hand was warm and she felt the same surge of excitement she had the other day when she ran into him in the hallway.

There was something about him that made her lose herself and it scared her. She pulled her hand away and turned her gaze. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and she picked up her sketchpad to distract herself.

Time ticked by and before long dinner had long been eaten, dessert had been served and the dishes were done.

The trio sat around sipping hot chocolate in front of the fireplace.

"Well, it's getting late. I better head home," Elizabeth announced gathering her supplies. She threw her scarf around her neck and took her coat off the back of the couch. "Thanks for having me."

"It's no problem at all." Sonny stood and helped her put her coat on. "Will you be coming by tomorrow?"

Elizabeth laughed softly. "I'm not sure. I have been making it a habit lately though, haven't I? I'll see what happens. Goodnight, Sonny."

She gave him a swift hug and walked towards the door. Turning, she smiled at Jason.

"Goodnight, Jason."

Elizabeth turned back around and was out the door before she had a chance to see the red rise on Jason's cheeks.

"You'll see that she gets home okay?" Sonny asked Jason without much thought, knowing he would.

Jason nodded nonetheless and grabbed his coat. He was out the door and out of earshot to hear Sonny's light chuckle.

Elizabeth walked fast, fighting against the wind that strained against her small frame. She tried to ignore the footsteps she heard behind her, but they got closer, louder. She quickened her pace. Unable to decide whether to run or hide, Elizabeth turned around just in time to slam right into Jason, only she was blinded by the mass of his chest and only knew that someone, a much larger person than her, was against her.

"Get away from me!" she screamed, pounding her fists into his broad chest.

Jason grabbed her wrists and held them apart so she would stop hitting him and that's when she brought her knee up and connected full force with his groin.

Breathing hard Elizabeth finally looked up long enough to see that it was Jason she was with.

"You asshole!" she cursed, giving him one last slap when he let her go. "You scared me half to death!"

Jason could see the fear and shock in her eyes turn to shame… And he could still feel the force of her knee as he struggled for composure.

She hadn't just been afraid, she was terrified. And that scared him. What had happened to her? Why was her first instinct to lash out at him? And now, watching the play of emotions draw tight lines across her face, he knew at that moment he had been right even the first day he met her. This woman had secrets buried deep inside her soul. He could feel the loneliness and the bitter sting of pain that so often penetrated his own world radiating off of her.

He took a step back and eyed the ground, breathing hard.

"Did Sonny tell you to follow me?" she asked, looking at his bent head and sagging shoulders.

"I suppose he did," she commented to herself. "Shit! I must have got you good." She sighed and then smiled a bit too much.

Relief gave way to anger. Her mask was back on and any emotions she'd let slip out were back behind those tightly guarded walls she'd erected.

"That's what you get for sneaking up on people. Now, if you had just given me a warning of some kind-"

Jason's head shot up and he scowled at her, before staring back at the ground.

"Oh, right, the no-talking thing. Look, are you alright?"

She crouched down and tried to get him to look at her.

He wouldn't.

"Come on, it's freezing out here and I would like to get home before I turn into a human popsicle."

Elizabeth began to move and he caught up quickly despite the pain in his most private of regions.

"Men!" she sighed under her breath.

The walk to her place seemed to go by slowly and Liz felt the chill even through her winter jacket and sweater. She had long ago put on her mittens and wrapped the scarf tighter around her neck. Jason seemed content in just a T-shirt and his leather jacket, as usual.

She caught him a few times grimacing and cupping his injured member and she truly did feel guilty. Elizabeth knew he must be in pain after all the times she had done the same thing to her older brother…and Lucky, when he was really, really getting on her nerves. Of course with them she held back, but tonight she really let Jason have it without mercy.

"Are you okay?" she finally asked, when they were at her apartment door.

Jason wouldn't look at her. He turned to leave.

"Jason just--just wait a minute! I'm going to be the bigger person here and apologize. Even though you never would have gotten hurt had you not been acting like a total creep and following me--even if Sonny said to do it--so I will forgive you. So do you forgive me? I don't just mean for… I mean, for everything."

He stared at her for what seemed like forever before he finally nodded his head slowly.

"I like Sonny and I like coming to the monastery. I'm hoping we can be friends, too. I really do want to start over."

She took off her gloves and presented her tiny hand to him. "Truce, okay?"

Against his better judgment and the non-too-pleasant pain in his groin, he took her hand and immediately felt that undeniable connection again. Her fingers were soft and cool against his and he sank into the contrast. He'd never felt more at peace than he did at that moment. She was fiery and wild and probably more than a little reckless, but her touch was a comfort he'd never known. He wanted to memorize it so that he could somehow dredge up the feeling when he felt the loneliness that usually enveloped him and just make it go away for one second.

Elizabeth was scared. She hadn't felt alive for such a long time and just by taking Jason's hand she felt things waking up inside. There was still something about him that made her uneasy though, and she withdrew her hand more abruptly than she had planned.

He stared at her with unblinking eyes, turned and left without so much as a wave goodbye.

Elizabeth unlocked her door and threw her keys on the table before she walked over to the couch. She slung her jacket over the back of it and relaxed against the soft cushions. Closing her eyes she struggled to find an image other than Jason's face to decorate her dreams.

It was going to be a long night.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Remembering Tibet  
Author: Kat/Yuppiekat  
Rating: R  
Disclaimer: I don't own...well, anything pertaining to GH.  
Summary: This is an Alternate Universe fic. (And, possibly, a strange one at that.)-- The past haunts Jason and Elizabeth. In order to heal, they'll need each other.  
Notes: There are a few things that you should know about this fic... This fic was started (I believe) in 2002, but time constraints and frustration about the show stalled the writing of this fic. I am in the middle of re-reading and revising all the chapters. I'm not sure how often I can post. I wish I had more time to work on this, but you'll have to settle for a sporadic posting schedule. The character of Lucky is, well, very out of character. I'm aware of that. There is also a lot of head hopping in this fic... Um, sorry about that.

* * *

Elizabeth Webber had studied many art textbooks, had even read manuals in several different languages—with great patience and trusty translation books, oh, and an insatiable bout of insomnia—and still she came up empty. Nowhere was there a section about not falling for the subject you were studying/drawing/painting. 

Obviously the authors had never encountered their own Jason Morgan. Had they, they would be able to write volumes upon volumes for her eyes only. Maybe their versions could shed light on her sudden need to draw the man. Maybe they could explain the nagging irony of going to bed at ten o'clock only to be awoken nearly four hours later sweat-soaked and yet chilled to the bone with the exciting spill of inspiration that rolled off her fingers onto canvas after canvas.

Weren't there other artists out there in the vast expanse of the universe struggling with this exact same problem? Was there a support group for this sort of thing? Or could only one man be that inspirational, that…mysterious, that she _had_ to paint his face, those eyes, those lips, that soft pink tongue?

And was it wrong for her to imagine that tongue, those lips and teeth dragging over her body when she hated to be touched? She had never heard him speak and yet she knew, absolutely _knew_, his voice could make her weep from the sinful words that would pour against her skin. She could imagine his hushed words, whispered against her ear, tickling her skin while his hands made their way up her thigh, under the denim of her skirt, over the silk of her underwear…

Oh, God.

For the first time in a long time, Elizabeth felt herself wanting something…_someone _and it was so very wrong.

So unwanted.

So unplanned.

So…not real, she decided.

She had to remind herself that she didn't even know Jason. Not really. What she was feeling was a silly, unreciprocated crush and she would just have to get over it. Like now.

Picking up one of the loose sheets of paper that she'd torn out of her sketchbook earlier that night, Elizabeth stared into the eyes of Jason Morgan. She knew she should just throw it away--throw them_ all_ away--but no matter what how hard she tried, she couldn't stop drawing him. She saw something in him that reflected back in her own eyes. That unbearable pain. And, okay, if she was forced to admit it, that wasn't the _only_ reason she drew him. Fine, so she liked the way he looked. More than liked. But it wasn't going to go any farther than that.

The yawn that escaped from Elizabeth's mouth was a tell-tale sign that she should be in bed. The next day was going to be long and she needed her rest. So, after shuffling her paints and canvases to the side, she crawled onto the couch and threw a blanket over herself, falling fast asleep.

* * *

Bored was a word too kind for how Trisha Harper felt. She wanted to stir things up, to make a little trouble. Hanging upside down in a beaten-up chair, Harper looked over at Liz. She got a devious smile on her face. "So how's the stud?" 

"What?" Elizabeth asked looking up from her notebook. She was too busy studying for her art history test to notice that for the last half-hour Trisha had been huffing and sighing her way into boredom.

She went to take a potato chip from the bag they had been sharing only to come up empty. "Did you eat all the chips?"

Putting her pen down and throwing her notebook on the table, Liz went into the cupboards searching for some more empty-calorie foods that would make studying less torture. Okay, so they weren't into healthy snacking—at least, not during exams—but an apple just wasn't going to do the trick.

"I was hungry," Trisha stated watching as her friend tore her studio up looking for something to eat. "Did you even hear what I said?"

Falling to the floor, Trisha picked herself up and sauntered over to Liz.

"You know, we should just go to Kelly's," Elizabeth remarked when her search wielded nothing. "Studying makes me hungry," she continued absently, becoming aware that Harper was staring her down. "What are you looking at me like that for?"

"You heard exactly what I said and now you're acting like you're starving so I'll drop the subject," she said.

"Correction, I really am starving and I don't really care what you have to say," she said, matter-of-factly.

Liz grabbed her coat and mittens and headed out the door.

Trisha grabbed her things and followed her. "Where are you going?"

"Kelly's," she said flatly.

"Fine, I'm coming too."

"Suit yourself."

"On the way we can discuss the always-sexy Jason Morgan," Harper teased.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, finished buttoning her coat and headed out into the crisp night air. "I really think you need to get him out of your system. All you ever want to do anymore is talk about him."

"I've been trying to do more than talk with the man but he doesn't seem interested. Do you know anything about that, Liz?"

"What would I know about the guy? I know about as much as you do. Maybe less, in fact." She wrapped her arms around herself, walking faster to keep the anger down. Why was it that Trisha always had to bring Jason Morgan up and why was it that it bothered her so much?

Trisha pulled her scarf around her neck and breathed the fresh fall air. She glanced at Liz and saw that she was really getting to her. It was only a matter of time before she gave up the good girl routine and admitted that she was attracted to Jason. The more she pushed the faster that admission would come. "Then maybe you could explain to me why he pretends I don't exist and why he can't keep his eyes off you."

"What? He doesn't do that," Liz disagreed adamantly and then softened, "W-When does he do that?"

Harper rolled her eyes. As if anyone was that oblivious. "When doesn't he?"

"Well, if he does--and I'm not saying you're right--but if he does, it's because he's giving me his death-stare or something. Let's face it, the guy hates me! You know the things I said to him the first time we met _and_ every time after that. I always seem to do the wrong thing..." Elizabeth trailed off realizing Trisha was getting a kick out of it.

The last thing she wanted to admit was that she might be falling for the guy and hated the fact that he didn't like her.

"Ladies!" Lucky Spencer called, running to catch up with them. "Where ya headed?" he asked looking between them. "Whoa, am I interrupting something?"

Trisha shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing we can't pick up later."

"Yeah. We were just heading to Kelly's. I guess you can come," Liz said to Lucky.

He trotted along beside them.

The invite was just a formality. They both knew he would tag along whether invited or not.

"Don't look now, but it looks like Paul Callahan is over there with his football buddies and it looks like he just saw you," Trisha warned her friend.

"Hey, Lizzie!"

"Too late," Lucky grumbled under his breath.

"Hey, Paul. You remember Lucky and Trisha, don't you?"

"Yeah, sure. What's up, Spencer?" Paul jabbed Lucky in the ribs hard, making him lurch forward.

Lucky gasped when the wind flew out of his lungs from the force behind the punch. "Jocks!" The winded Lucky muttered under his breath.

Paul grabbed the chair nearest Elizabeth and straddled it. "So, Lizzie, I was thinking maybe Friday night you and I could go to the movies or something."

Elizabeth cringed. She hated the way he said her name. It always made her feel so young and so unlike the woman she was. "That's a really nice offer, Paul, but I already have plans."

"Oh, that's too bad." Running his fingers through his mousy brown locks Paul "not always too quick on the uptake" Callahan seemed unfazed. "How about Saturday?"

"Oh, I really wish I could, but Trisha and I have to… Well, we're going to-"

"A gallery opening!"

"Yes!" Liz said, silently thanking Trisha across the table.

"We have to go to a gallery opening as part of our grade. Plus, it gives us a chance to meet new artists and get pointers, that sort of thing. You understand, don't you?"

"Of course, Lizzie. Some other time, okay?"

"Yeah sure, that would be neat."

Paul got up and slithered away.

"God, he is such a creep! I can't believe I ever went out with him in the first place."

"That's all fine and everything, Liz, but when did you start using the word neat?"

Lucky's eyes danced with mischief and it made Elizabeth and Trisha smile.

"I couldn't think of anything to say and neat just popped into my head," she explained.

The trio sat at a table finishing off the last of their unhealthy meal.

"So are we ready to talk about him yet?"

"Give it up, Harper, there is nothing to discuss." Liz rolled her eyes and bit into the pickle that she had been eyeing on Lucky's plate.

"Hey, that's mine!" Lucky fussed. "And what's all this about some mystery man that our little Lizzie is obviously obsessing over. Or maybe it's the other way around, maybe Harper's got it bad and Liz is the one the poor bastard wants. Am I right?"

"Shut up, Spencer!" Both girls said in unison.

"Man, do you think I take enough abuse from the two of you? Sometimes I have to go home to check and make sure I still have a goddamn dick!" He reacted, taking back the other half of his dill pickle and shoving it into his mouth.

"Look, Spence, it's not my fault you're always such a bloody pussy!" Harper jabbed, cutting him a hard stare.

"Real nice, Trisha. You're lucky I'm such a forgiving idiot otherwise I would be out of this chair so fast," Lucky threatened idly.

"Don't let us stop you," Harper continued sending him icy glares.

"Cool off now! The two of you are acting like you're in second grade. Now everyone shut up and let's move on to other subjects," Elizabeth said firmly, jutting out her chin to show how serious she was.

"Fine!" Lucky surrendered.

"Whatever!" Trisha commented, pouring a glob of ketchup on her plate.

Elizabeth sipped her hot chocolate that had long ago turned cold. The crystals had gathered at the bottom, so when she drank her lips were rimmed in it. She licked it away and turned her attention back to Harper and Lucky who were bickering again.

"So how's Bob?"

Both Lucky and Trisha stopped and looked at Liz.

"Bob?"

"Yeah, Bob. Mr. Human Sexuality?"

"Oh yeah, that's over. I'm on to Kent now," Harper explained smiling so wide Lucky winced.

"Kent? I give it two days," Lucky scoffed.

Trisha ignored him and pulled her attention back to Liz.

"So what's he like?"

"Well," she began, "he's a med student, has two sisters, great hair, green eyes, amazing pecs, oh and his butt isn't bad either."

Rolling his eyes, Lucky found it hard to mask his annoyance. After all the years of chasing Trisha she had never once commented or complimented him in anyway and he was sick of hearing about her latest boy toys. "Good to know what impresses you, Harper. Is there anything else you want to add?"

"He's thinking about growing a goatee--which I talked him out of." She smiled triumphantly and almost as an afterthought she added, "oh yeah, and last night we played doctor."

Elizabeth laughed and Lucky stormed off, straight out the door without a single goodbye to either girl.

"Aww, you shouldn't say things like that in front of him. You know he has a thing for you."

"Spence is not serious about me, Liz. It's just this game we play. He pretends he loves me and I pretend he's chop liver. It works out pretty well." She shrugged her shoulders and took a sip of the coke in front of her.

"Maybe for you. I really think you hurt him just now. Maybe you should go talk to him," Elizabeth suggested.

Even if Lucky was a big pain at times, he was always there each and every time Liz needed him. And lately Elizabeth had been picking up these vibes from her two best friends. Something was up with them.

"He's fine. He'll get over it." Trisha smiled and dipped a fry in ketchup. "If not, we can always get a dog."

"You're such a heartless bitch," Elizabeth said, throwing her napkin at her.

"Takes one to know one, Liz. I don't see you giving Paul Callahan the time of day lately and you know he has a major crush on you."

"We're just different people. We went out a few times but we just didn't click. I need someone who can hold a conversation for longer than two seconds and for it not to be about football, baseball, basketball or some other God awful sport."

"Liz, you like sports," Trisha reminded her.

"Yeah, but that's just because I like to watch the men run around in those tight little outfits. What other reason would make women want to watch football?"

"Technical merit?" Trisha shrugged.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Gimme a break, you watch for the same reasons I do."

"Fine, I admit it. You know who would look really good all decked out in a football jersey and those tight little spandex pants?"

When Liz just looked at her blankly Trisha continued without further prompting. "Jason! Can you just imagine?" she said, a little too excited for Elizabeth's liking.

"Can we not talk about him again?"

"Who?" Trisha asked innocently batting her eyelashes.

"You know who."

"Oh, my God! You can't even say his name! You've really got it bad."

"Whatever you're implying I don't _"have it'_" period, let alone bad. Now let it go."

"Why won't you talk about him? Is there something you're not telling me?"

Elizabeth unfolded her arms. "And we're back to this again! Okay, you want to know what's really going on? I'll tell you. I haven't been there for two days and I don't plan on going back!"

"What happened?" Trisha asked intrigued.

"Nothing happened. I just don't feel right going there all the time and not giving them anything back."

"You are such a liar! Did he come on to you?" Trisha asked and then sat up straighter. "Oh, did you come on to him? Is that it? Come on, Liz, don't leave me in suspense. Spill it!"

"I hate to burst your bubble, but no one came on to anyone."

"That sounded dirty." Trisha wagged her eyebrows.

Elizabeth stopped, reexamining her words. She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Besides how do you expect someone who doesn't speak to come on to me?"

"Two words: body language!" Harper said seductively. "So was he all rubbing up against you or was it the other way around? Is he a good kisser? He looks like he would be. He has that kind of mouth where you just want to devour those lips. God, how did you stop yourself form just biting him?! Oh! Or maybe you did bite him-"

"Stop!" Elizabeth gasped.

Trisha straightened and looked over at her friend whose face was two shades away from being identical to the ketchup on her plate.

"What? What did I say?" Trisha asked, feigning innocence.

"I kicked him," Elizabeth said, partially obstructing her face with her hand.

"You what?!" she gaped. "Where? More importantly, _why_?"

"I thought he was going to attack me." She shook her head at the look of horror on her friend's face. "See, Sonny told him to walk me home but decided not to inform me and when I heard something behind me, my first instinct was to take my knee and hit him square in the balls."

"Oh, Liz." Trisha moved in closer, rubbing small circles over Elizabeth's back for comfort.

"And now I'm too embarrassed to face him. What am I supposed to say, "hey Sonny, hey Jason, oh and, by the way, how's your dick?""

"Oh, hon, I'm sure he's over it by now."

Liz looked at her sternly. "You have brothers. You _know_ they don't just get over it. Remember the time you kicked Travis _there_ after he jumped out at us in that horrible mask last Halloween? How long did it take before he stopped wearing a cup?"

Trisha rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but my brothers are all spazzes. Jason's not."

"He probably never wants to see me again. I can just picture it, every time I go near him he'll probably hold himself just in case he gets on my bad side and thinks I'm going to go for a second round. Hell, I've probably made him sterile!"

"Okay, now you're just exaggerating. It was a mistake. You know that and I'm sure he does too. Besides, you're not that strong."

"I work out."

"Yeah, oh-kay."

Elizabeth stood and began to put her warm jacket and mittens back on. "Still, I'm not ready to face him yet. You ready to go?"

"Yeah. I guess Spence stiffed us for the bill again."

"Doesn't he always?" she said, shaking her head.

* * *

Jason came in from a long exhausting run. His cheeks were chapped from the cold wind and his nose was red and runny. He pulled at the fabric of the tracksuit that clung to his body, dropping the sweatshirt and pants to the ground before entering the hot shower. The water was scalding and prickled when it met the contrast of his cool skin. But the heat felt good on his aching muscles. He closed his eyes and let the combination shampoo/conditioner residue drip down his body from the blast of the spray. 

Elizabeth hadn't been by the house in two _very_ long days. Not since the night she had maimed his nether region and he hoped that wasn't her reason for staying away. The truth was--if he let himself acknowledge it--she was really starting to grow on him. He missed seeing her tiny head darting out of the shrubbery while she searched the grounds for her next subject. He missed the smell of her soft-scented perfume that he had first found hidden in the fibers of his jacket. Ever since discovering it, he could pick it out anywhere. Most of all, he missed the sound of her voice. It swept over him like a warm wool blanket and heated his blood. And even more soothing was her laugh; soft in sound but big in heart.

God, she was just so beautiful. She was so fair and her skin was lighter than alabaster mud, and he was sure it would be just as soft. What he wouldn't give to allow himself to touch the softness of her cheeks, dip his fingertips onto the hollow of her throat and pull her against him to just breathe her in. But he wouldn't allow himself; shouldn't even be thinking about her like that and yet…he did.

Sighing, he walked into his bedroom and dried himself off. Dressing, he put on a pair of old, worn-in jeans that fit like a glove and a long sleeve T-shirt before he headed toward the kitchen. He immediately went to the window hoping to see Elizabeth somewhere, with her nose cherry red wearing her scarf over her mouth and her hat low, way past her ears. But she wasn't there and he was starting to fear she wouldn't come back.

"I guess Miss Webber has been busy the last couple of days," Sonny commented watching Jason's reaction closely.

Jason sighed. He wiped the fog from the window caused by his hot breath and shrugged.

"I'm going to take a walk up the hill to visit Brenda."

Jason nodded and turned his attention back to the window.

Hearing the door click, Jason knew he was alone. The house was silent and he hated it. Silence made him think and these days all his thoughts seemed to be consumed by Elizabeth Webber.

She was a sweet kid and that's why he needed to stay away from her. He could see she had been hurt before. There was something he couldn't place and he didn't know how deep the wounds went, but he knew he didn't want to cause her any more pain. The sorrow in her eyes, that she tried so desperately to hide, hadn't gone unnoticed and the last thing she needed was for him to add to it. He would keep his distance; act like he didn't care and hard as it would be, he would act like he disliked her. Maybe this time he could keep someone he cared for safe. Maybe this time he could even stop himself from caring.

Who was he trying to fool? He was already in too deep. Jason liked the female presence in the house… He liked to watch while she fussed and fumed when her sketches weren't going well. Loved the way she tugged on her bottom lip when she got into a groove. Wouldn't mind helping her soothe away the sting she caused herself when she bit down too hard on a sudden burst of inspiration.

What the hell was he doing? Jason was a man that could fast for weeks. He was able to meditate without distraction. He had the willpower to remain silent for years. And in spite of all of that, he was mooning over some girl.

No, Elizabeth Webber wasn't just some girl. She was unlike any other woman he'd ever known. She had such fire and bite and yet such sadness in those blue eyes of hers…eyes that haunted his sleep. Eyes that wouldn't let him think clearly or meditate properly or do anything the way he used to do well. Eyes that he imagined open and soft with his body atop of hers, moving against her in a slow sensual rhythm…

Shaking himself out of it, Jason moved to the front door and opened it. Stepping out onto the porch, he inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. The air was crisp, a soft mix of fall and the arriving winter. The hint of late blooming flowers perfumed the air and the decay of leaves scattered the ground carelessly. The sky was a pale shade of blue. The clouds stroked the sky like frosting on a cake, spreading over the hillside and swooping down to the valleys of brush and trees. With the sun beaming on the cold ground sweeping the grass in punches of light, it seemed much later than it was.

Shivering in the doorway Jason remembered what it was like to be cold. To have the air ripped from his lungs and leave the skin of his face feeling plastic. Yes, Jason had been cold before and at times like this he felt the sting of remembrance creep into his veins. The strong flow of blood pumped through his system and all at once he was taken back to a time, a place that seemed so very distant. A time when his childhood was a happy memory, a safe state of mind, and not a frightening nightmare. A time when being chilled to the bone was still not a cause of worry. But now the cold only served as a reminder of a time he couldn't go back to, a place that didn't exist anymore, and of people that would never open their eyes again.

Death.

The cold reminded him of death.

* * *

The chill in the air was getting more frequent and that meant winter was around the corner. Elizabeth Webber loved winter for all the reasons other people hated it. The snow and ice were beautiful to her and while others found the cold air annoying, she found it refreshing. 

The lakes would freeze and the birds would head South and then she would paint the emptiness of the land. The barren trees, the crystal ice and bright white snow were all her favorite subjects. The best thing about the frozen world of winter was that it stayed still, unlike some of the other creatures of the spring and summer.

Still was safe.

Too long Liz had felt the sting of change and depended on the stillness to get her through.

Stepping onto the monastery grounds she wondered what it would look like in winter.

Her cheeks were wet and red from the small pellets of rain that were beginning to fall. Sprinting over to the big house, she noticed movement in the garage and headed that way. The door, that was normally closed, was open a crack and she wondered if Sonny was in there gathering preserves for something wonderful he was about to cook.

"Sonny?"

Elizabeth peered into the room. She met a pair of eyes, cold and frighteningly blue, definitely not Sonny's.

She shivered. "Oh!"

She pulled the hair from her face and took another step in. The garage was warm and even though it smelled like gasoline and oil it still provided protection from the outside.

"I thought you were Sonny," Elizabeth said quietly, scanning the space with her eyes.

Jason never moved, not even to blink. He stared at her like he was waiting for something to happen. Maybe he wanted her to leave. Or maybe he was trying to communicate something. Either way Liz did not get the message. She walked further into the musky space, nosing her way around.

Jason followed her with his eyes for a while before going back to his work.

She stepped close to him, brought her hand to his shoulder and pulled it away before she touched him. "Jason?"

He looked up at her, seemed surprised she was so near and then put the wrench he held in his hand on the ground and waited for her to continue.

"How's your--does your, um... Uh, forget it!" She threw her hands up and walked to the opposite side of the small space. God, she was an idiot! "I'm sorry about the other night, okay?"

His back was to her so she missed the slight smile that curved his lips. The other night when she had hit him, it _had_ hurt. But he was fine now and even better now that she was here. All his suspicion that she was staying away because of him were now confirmed. And, in a way, he was proud of her for coming back even though she was obviously embarrassed.

As Elizabeth waited for some type of response she looked around the garage. There was a car and a motorcycle in the small space and from the looks of things Jason belonged to the bike. He cranked and twisted screws and bolts, tightening and loosening things as he fixed the machine with concentration and patience.

"So..."

Not wanting to be rude and totally dismiss Jason for Sonny, Elizabeth was making an effort to get to know the leather-clad rebel. She fiddled with tools, toyed with machinery until picking up a grease-stained part and holding it out for him. "What the heck does this do?"

With barely a glance her way Jason stood, taking the car part from her hand and setting it back on the table and then crouched down again, picking up another tool.

Huh. Okay. This was proving to be a little harder than she thought.

Moving to the corner of the dusty garage Elizabeth leaned against a mini-workshop that had been set up. Tiny spirals of oak shavings coated the floor and table. The soft white dust spilled over the counter while she moved toward it.

"Did you do these?" she asked looking over towards him, not surprised when he simply shook his head and continued what he was doing.

Admiring the craftsmanship of some of the carvings, she picked one up, studied it and then set it back down. Taking in a deep breath she wasn't prepared for the sneeze that erupted and shook her body. Her hands covered her face, preparing for another one.

"I'm allergic to dust," she said to Jason who was now looking at her.

Jason couldn't help himself, he smiled. Whether she realized it or not, Elizabeth had grease on her hands and when she covered her face some wiped off onto her skin there.

Trying not to let his sudden change in attitude throw her, Elizabeth smiled too. "What?"

Standing, he walked towards her. Keeping his movements slow and controlled so he wouldn't frighten her. Watching her tense, his hand lifted to her cheek so very softly she barely felt it, but the spark that came when they finally connected was hard to ignore. His fingers spread over the expanse of her creamy skin and his thumb brushed her nose. Once. Twice. Three times.

Elizabeth bit down on her lip—had to concentrate so she wouldn't close her eyes and ease into his touch. His hands were large, covering most of her cheek and even lingering past her jaw bone onto her neck. She felt his fingers move, sifting through the hairs at the base of her neck and it sent chills down her spine.

For the first time, she saw him as gentle.

Looking up, she met his eyes and they were intense, a vivid, expressive blue that made her body shiver.

He had been right. Her skin was silky smooth under his fingertips. He wiped the grease from her nose, but let his thumb and fingers stroke her skin longer than was necessary. God, she was soft. Even touching the wispy tendrils of hair was going too far, he knew it, but he couldn't help himself.

A tingle of awareness began to spread through her like wildfire. Driving heat shot through her body, warming her cheeks and flushing them pink.

Jason knew he should have let her go a minute ago. Probably shouldn't have even touched her in the first place. After all, he could have just tossed her a rag and let her wipe away the dirt herself.

But this way was better.

Sinful.

And he knew the more he touched her, the more he would want to… But the simple fact was she wasn't safe with him. The war of emotions finally got to him and he dropped his hand to the side, backing away from her.

Pulling back, she laughed quietly, a little embarrassed and a little confused. "Thanks. I'm always so messy."

Elizabeth watched him move away, toward the motorcycle he'd been working on, and bring his massive leg over the Harley.

"Is Sonny in the house?" she asked loudly when the bike roared to life.

Jason shook his head and looked at her. He motioned for her to come closer and then handed her a helmet.

Elizabeth took it in her small hands and looked at him in confusion. He waited patiently while she strapped the helmet onto her head and mounted the bike. At first, she didn't know where to put her hands and after a moment's debate she moved them onto his shoulders, too afraid to wrap them around the bulk of him. The engine purred under them and it was a feeling unlike anything. Liz had never been on a motorcycle before, but she was excited and they hadn't even moved yet.

When they made their way out of the garage and onto the paved path, Elizabeth's grip tightened. The wind whipped by them, so loud and strong she couldn't hear or feel anything.

Jason took the turns fast, driving the bike so hard, Elizabeth feared they would crash.

They didn't.

He had control and power over the large machine and something about the ride made him seem utterly sexy. Feeling more relaxed she slipped her hands around his waist and pressed her face against his back. The feel of leather and rain enveloped her. The drops began to come in heavy droves. But by the time they made it around the bend and up the cliff road the rain had all but stopped.

Jason helped her off the motorcycle, taking her hand in his and supporting her weight when she slid onto the gravel.

"That was incredible!" Elizabeth gasped louder than necessary while she readjusted to the feel of land beneath her feet.

Her body trembled and her knees buckled, but Jason caught her before she hit the ground. He held her elbow and steadied her. As soon as she was stable he took his hand away like it burned. Elizabeth tried not to let the frown show on her face when she turned back to him.

"I've never felt that alive before! It was like a total rush. The wind was whipping by so fast and everything just sort of blurred together. I could get used to rides on this thing!"

Her cheeks were rosy and her breath misted in the air. She straightened out her coat and Jason tried not to notice how incredibly cute she looked. She smiled at him showing off her clean white teeth and it was like no one existed but the two of them and the great expanse of space.

Looking at her, he knew he could watch her the entire day and never be bored and that's what he wanted to do more than anything. She was getting too close, though. He couldn't let himself care. So, instead he moved away and straddled the motorcycle, tucking the helmet in the back.

Elizabeth watched him curiously. "Where are you going?"

Jason pointed over her shoulder past a clearing in the trees where a great formation of rocks stood above a high cliff. She could make out a figure and guessed Jason had brought her to Sonny.

"Sonny?"

He nodded and started the engine.

He was down the road and out of view before she could protest. Jason just left her there whether she wanted to be or not.

She wasn't mad, not really, more annoyed that he never wanted to spend time with her. She could have waited with him until Sonny came back to the house, but that's not how Jason's brain worked. He wanted to get as far away from her as possible and she felt like she should be offended, but a part of her was relieved. Because it seemed the more she was around him, the more she wanted to be and she didn't need that kind of hassle in her life right now. She had given up on men and was certainly not going to let Jason Morgan change her mind without even trying to.

She stepped onto the path and tried to avoid crunching the brittle leaves underfoot so her presence wouldn't be known. Realizing only when she got close enough that beyond the stones was a grave. She guessed it belonged to his wife and child. Her first thought was that she shouldn't be here.

She watched Sonny pace around the marble stone. Fresh flowers that he had obviously brought were laid in front of the grave. He seemed to be mumbling to himself and gesturing to himself, like he was conversing with someone who wasn't there. Elizabeth felt odd. It was wrong to watch, wasn't it? Well, she knew it was. And it _was_ wrong to even be here.

She wondered what had made Jason take her to him.

Quietly she slipped her backpack off and took out her small sketch pad. Knowing words would not be enough for a man who was grieving, Elizabeth let him be alone. Continuing to watch, Elizabeth began to sketch him.

Sonny crouched down and touched the marker.

Even though it was an invasion of privacy and even though she might regret it later, she started her drawing by outlining his face on paper. The lines by his eyes were harsh and wrinkled. He almost looked like a person she had never seen before. Gone was the carefree smile and the gentle gleam in his eye, replacing it was a face littered with pain and defeat.

For a long time Sonny stayed in that same position, head bowed, arm outstretched, knees bent. Liz had finished her sketch long before he stood and moved from the grave to the edge of the cliff and looked out over the canyon. He wiped at his eyes and Elizabeth waited another minute before she approached him.

"Sonny?" she said slowly.

He turned to face her. He seemed to be in some sort of trance. He didn't recognize Elizabeth at first and when she said his name for the third time he finally slipped out of it.

"Elizabeth, how did you-"

"Jason brought me," she said quickly, adding, "on his motorcycle."

"I see." Sonny ran his fingers through his hair, trying to tame some unruly strands to no avail. "We should get back. It's getting cool."

He started to walk away but Elizabeth reached out and took his arm in her small hand.

Her eyes were filled with sympathy and understanding when she looked at him. "Tell me about her. About them."


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Remembering Tibet  
Author: Kat/Yuppiekat  
Rating: R  
Disclaimer: I don't own...well, anything pertaining to GH.  
Summary: This is an Alternate Universe fic. (And, possibly, a strange one at that.)-- The past haunts Jason and Elizabeth. In order to heal, they'll need each other.  
Notes: There are a few things that you should know about this fic... This fic was started (I believe) in 2002, but time constraints and frustration about the show stalled the writing of this fic. I am in the middle of re-reading and revising all the chapters. I'm not sure how often I can post. I wish I had more time to work on this, but you'll have to settle for a sporadic posting schedule. The character of Lucky is, well, very out of character. I'm aware of that. There is also a lot of head hopping in this fic... Um, sorry about that.

* * *

Elizabeth was wide-eyed at her own request. "I'm sorry. I have no right to ask that." 

She turned her eyes from his, afraid of her forwardness, afraid he would agree. "Please forgive me," she whispered.

"No, it's all right," Sonny said, in that gentle way of his.

She let go of his forearm and wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling the need to keep her hands occupied. She fidgeted when she was nervous—one of her bad habits. She also rambled excessively and bit her lip. At least she was exerting some self-control.

"I come up here to think," he finally said, after a long soulful gaze over the terrain.

A light drizzle of rain began again, coming down gently on the solid earth, digging small craters into it. Neither Sonny nor Elizabeth seemed to notice. Even when their hair wilted and fell against their wet foreheads, they were oblivious.

"It seems like a reasonable place to think," Elizabeth offered.

She stared down at the mouth of the cavernous cliff and held her breath. It was a long drop and surely no one would make it out alive if they ever fell. The thought sobered her and she remembered why Sonny was here.

"Do you miss her?" A look of dread passed her features and she nervously smoothed her hand down her cheek, surprised to find it wet and cold. "Oh God, I'm sorry that was—that was a horrible question to ask. Just a…a stupid thing to say, really. Of course you do What I meant was-" she sighed, frustrated. "I really don't know what I meant."

Taking a deep inhale of breath, Sonny's shoulders rose before slumping in defeat. "Her name was Brenda. She used to be a model," he said smiling proudly.

Brenda had been Sonny's wife. She was considered perfect to men across the world, but Sonny knew different. He knew each and every one of her flaws and loved her just the same.

"But…she wasn't _just _that. God, she was so much more than I deserved. She was very young and very beautiful. I've never met anyone who could make me laugh like she did. We'd laugh for hours together. She was a kid when I met her, no older than eighteen, but she was so bright, so wise beyond her years. I don't know how it happened, but one day I was looking at her and it just hit me that I loved her. I don't think I've ever loved that hard in my life and it happened so fast. I wasn't even prepared." His smile was sad. His eyes darted over the marble grave, watching the water seep between the carved letters that spelled her name.

"We, uh...we got married in that little church at the monastery. It was just the two of us, a few friends, some family, but all I saw was her. God, she looked beautiful."

Staring off into the distance, almost able to picture her, it took him a moment to snap out of it and when he finally did, he straightened his overcoat and looked over to Elizabeth sheepishly. "She was my life. So kind and loving and she gave so much. A child, Elizabeth." Sonny faced her, looking like he didn't believe his own words. "She gave me a child."

Theirs had been a wonderful courtship, a fantastic wedding and a honeymoon tucked away on some island where they forgot about real life; made love on the beach, the moon lighting their naked bodies and the sound of surf tickling their ears--probably conceiving their son on one of those long nights on the sand. They should have known that nothing could stay that perfect for long...

Sure, there were times that seemed so wonderful, so magical, that it made up for all the hurt. The birth of their baby was one. Brenda gave birth to a beautiful boy with strong, dark eyes and features that were a combination of both parents. A tiny button nose like his mother and those same dimples of Sonny's that women tended to fuss over.

Elizabeth smiled. "I'm sure you must have loved each other very much."

She watched the emotions play on his face; knew he was beating himself up harder than the thunder that clapped in the distance. That if he could, he'd trade places with the woman he'd once shared a life with.

"She died because of me, Elizabeth. She gave me a child and I let them both die. I betrayed her." Sonny's eyes were red and raw when he looked back at her. They were a different brown than before. They were pure blackness, dark and dead.

"I..." Starting to speak again, he shook his head, covered his cheek with his shaking hand.

She stared at him in shock and with the greatest sympathy. She watched him rip himself apart. He was becoming desperate with his accusations about himself. Elizabeth could see the deep scars that tarnished his soul and realized not all wounds were visible or could be erased.

Maybe these were worse. Deeper. Hidden. Frightening, like a dark room for a child that fears the night and the demons that prowl when the sun goes down. Maybe everyone was a little scared of the dark even in broad daylight.

Tugging on her jacket, she pulled the sleeves over her palms, drew in the warmth. "Sonny?"

"I'm not as good as you think I am." His eyes were moist and his throat was tight.

Even the strongest of men need reassurances. Dragons, even the most ferocious fire breathing beasts; the ones that live in the deep caverns of one's very being; the ones that steal your breath and raise the hairs on your skin, will eventually be slain.

It just takes time.

"She wasn't even twenty yet, Elizabeth. And my son? My son never even made it to his first birthday. I'm a monster and a sinner and I deserve to rot in hell for the things I put my family through. I wasn't always like this. I used to have to be in control. I craved it like a drug. I needed power to run through my veins like a heroine addict needs their next fix. Money, Elizabeth. It was always about _money_ and the _territory_ and making myself feel like a _fucking God_! I might as well have killed them myself. I'm the reason they died. I'm the reason my sweet little boy lies in the cold ground with his mother and I'm still here breathing air that I hate and living a life that's a lie. I did this to them and I'm still alive. How fucking ironic is that?"

Nothing lasts. Not the laughter. Not the joy. Not even the tears. All that was left at the end of the day was a broken man with a heavy heart and so much money he could have swam in it.

And all he wanted was to build himself a life, one different from the one he'd been so afraid of as a little boy. He swore he'd never be poor again and no one was ever going to lock him in a closet or beat him within an inch of his life. No. He was going to rise above it all. Make it so he was the one feared. And, oh, how he succeeded. Sometimes he even scared himself. But what good was that power and money to him now? Now he didn't have to worry because he swam in a pool of regret. A deep dark liquid of fear and pain and he couldn't seem to stay afloat. There were good days and there were bad; worse when he thought about them, much worse when he didn't.

It was hell.

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut and tried to stop the moisture from slipping down her cheek. "Sonny. You didn't--"

"But I did. Don't you see? If she'd never met me, she'd be alive."

"But she _did_ meet you and she_ loved_ you. I bet she's up there, in heaven, right now looking down at you. And Sonny?" she said, placing her hand on his shoulder and giving him a light squeeze, "she would be proud."

"Proud?" he questioned, his voice sounding very hoarse to her.

He wanted to believe her, she could tell, and she knew the next thing she said would have great impact one way or the other. They both ignored the tear that streaked down his face and mixed with the rain that still fell from the dark sky in loose rivulets.

Liz took a deep breath and then took his hand in hers. "You're a fine man, Sonny Corinthos, whether you want to believe that or not. I didn't know you then, but I know who you are now. You gave up something you knew was wrong and changed your ways. She would be proud of you for that."

"I wish," he began but stopped, pinched the bridge of his nose to stop the tears. "I just wish I could have done it before... before everything."

"I know," Elizabeth whispered, coaxing him into her arms. "I know."

She pressed her face against the scratchy fibers of his coat, smelling the masculine scent of him. Her eyes closed automatically and she couldn't help feeling that for the first time in a long time, she'd made a difference. She trusted Sonny and it had been a long time since she'd been able to trust someone so quickly, without restraint. Something made her think they could help each other and gain a life-lasting friendship in the process and that made her hopeful.

"I don't even have a picture of us as a family. That's how much of a bastard I was. I didn't have the time. I... I never had the time."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, realizing how trite it sounded.

Rubbing his back for comfort, she jolted when he pulled away suddenly.

"No, I should be the one saying sorry. I shouldn't have spoken so harshly. I shouldn't have unloaded on you. It wasn't right. I'm sure you have your own problems, you don't have to listen to mine." Wiping furiously at his eyes, he seemed ashamed for being so blunt with her earlier, telling her things he thought she probably didn't want to hear.

"I asked. I wouldn't have if I didn't want to know. I'm glad you told me," she said softly, taking his hand and giving it a light squeeze.

He squeezed it back and smiled softly down at her. "Thank you, Elizabeth."

"Anytime."

"Let's get going. I don't want you catching cold from this damp weather we're having."

"Sure, Sonny. Let's go," she said, attempting a smile. It was best to let him assume the role of caretaker, since it seemed to fit him so well.

As they walked back, her hand went to her coat where she had stuffed the drawing. She thought of giving him the drawing, but for some reason she couldn't depart with it.

"You're being awfully quiet," Sonny pointed out while they strolled the grounds back to the house.

"I'm having my first critique soon. I guess I'm just a little nervous," Elizabeth explained.

Sonny watched her from the corner of his eye. She swept the hair away from her face and kept walking even when his pace slowed.

Sonny shook his head. "No. No, that's not it. It's Jason, isn't it?"

Elizabeth whipped her head around to face him. "This has nothing to do with Jason. I told you, I'm just nervous about having my art looked at."

Her hand brushed her skin unconsciously touching the spot where Jason had touched her earlier. Her cheeks flamed at the memory.

"He doesn't mean to make you feel bad. I mean, he doesn't do it intentionally. He's just trying to keep his distance and keep you safe even if he goes about it the wrong way."

"Keep me safe?" Her eyebrows arched up and she stopped walking. "What would he need to keep me safe from?"

"There's a lot you don't know about him, Miss Webber. There are things I don't even know. I'm going to tell you this, even though I probably shouldn't--in fact, I know I shouldn't. Jason likes his privacy and I respect that about him, but I think if you knew a little about him, you might look at him a little different.

"Jason came here when he was twelve-years-old. He's always been shy, quiet, keeps to himself most of the time… I think the reason for that, though, has a lot to do with his childhood and the things that happened to him. It made him skeptical and cautious."

"W-what happened to him?" she asked, shivering from the cold winds that swept over her saturated skin.

"A lot of things, but I'll get to that. I want to explain to you where his head's at. Why he thinks he needs to keep himself so closed off. Why he keeps you at a distance, even though I know he likes you and wants to be near you."

"Don't be silly. Jason keeps his distance because he thinks I'm insane. He doesn't like me. If he did, he wouldn't find every excuse under the sun to go away whenever I'm at the house. Not that I blame him, I've done some pretty crazy things to him. First, I yelled at him the very first time I ever met him. Then I ogled him naked," she said, laughing when she looked at Sonny and found him completely confused. "Well, not completely naked. See, he'd just gotten out of the shower and I got lost. Anyway long story short, I stared at him like he was Sunday dinner and I hadn't eaten in a week. And to top it off, I kicked him."

"Yes, I heard about that one. He wrote me a long note about never making him follow you home again and if I was concerned for your safety I should go myself," Sonny said amused.

Elizabeth's face flushed.

"There's no reason to be embarrassed. I should have told you I'd be sending Jason along with you. And I agree he shouldn't have scared you like that. But really, I'm to blame. I hadn't heard about the naked incident though. I'll have to ask him about it later. Sunday dinner, huh?"

"Oh, God, please don't. If our friendship means anything you'll just keep that one to yourself!"

"Of course, my lips are sealed." Sonny chuckled.

Looking through her eyelashes, she barely met his eyes, speaking softly. "I just...I don't know how to relate to him. He's unlike anyone I've ever met."

"He's...different, but different doesn't always have to be bad. He's just really guarded. He doesn't trust people easily. When I came to live here, it took him six months to stop scowling at me. He was still a teenager and still very scared and to some degree alone. He's lost a lot in his life. Jason's lived all over the world. I bet you wouldn't have thought that."

"At this point I don't know what to think. He's not typical to say the least. He wears a leather jacket and rides a motorcycle, does karate on the lawn and has been silent for years! How many other people do you know like that?"

"Not many," he agreed. "Before he came here, he was in Tibet. A lot of things were happening there, political uproar, forms of Apartheid, religious differences. It was a lot for a boy to deal with and then tragedy stuck. There was a fire, a big one. It ripped through the village, nearly destroying everything. A lot of people died in that fire. Not Jason though and I guess to some degree he feels guilty he's still alive. Survivor's guilt, I guess.

"That little boy watched his friends die all those years ago. What you have to understand, Miss Webber, is that Jason isn't like most men. He's seen a lot. Seen things no one should have to; especially not a little boy. Jason grew up fast and never really knew the love of parents or the protection they provided."

Her heart sped. Her eyes misted. Her breath grew erratic. "What do you mean? Why not?" Elizabeth gasped and her breath misted in the cool air.

"They died when he was just a boy. He didn't have anyone and then he grew to love and trust the people he was staying with, but that all changed after the fire. It's hard for him to trust because he's afraid he'll wind up hurting someone."

"How would he hurt them?" she said softly, reigning in those emotions that were coming so close to the surface.

"Everyone he has ever cared for has died and he has always carried the burden that he is to blame. Can you imagine being six-years-old and thinking you're responsible for your parent's deaths?"

Elizabeth's chest tightened. She knew exactly how that felt. For years she thought her mother had died because of her.

"He was finally stable here. He had finally found a home and a family. His uncle was the closest thing he'd ever had to a father and when he died Jason just shut down. That's when he started his vow of silence. He held the body of his dying uncle, watching his eyes become hallow and his chest cease to move… It was…awful.

"After that he had no reason to live. And he's not. Not really. He's going through the motions, Elizabeth, but something's started to change in him. I've seen it. When you're around, I see a light go on in him. I think you're what he needs."

"Me? Oh no, that can't be. Jason doesn't need me. He doesn't even like me!"

"I think you're wrong."

"And I think I'm right, so I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree on this one."

Elizabeth couldn't even let the possibility roll around in her brain. It was too much to get her hopes up and not enough to allow herself to dream.

"Time will tell," Sonny said, smiling a wide, dimpled smile down at the young woman. "Time will tell."

They rounded the bend and the house was in sight. Elizabeth could faintly make out Jason's shape crouched down next to his motorcycle cleaning the exterior. She cocked her head to the side, really studying him. After what Sonny had told her she saw him in a new light, maybe he wasn't being cold and mean, maybe he was being guarded to protect himself. He'd been hurt and so had she.

Maybe together they could heal.

Suddenly Elizabeth felt very guilty. "Sonny?"

"Yeah?"

"I did something stupid," she said, sheepishly.

"What?"

"Well, the other day, I sort of…sketched him in the church when he thought he was alone."

Sonny chuckled. "I'm guessing from your reaction it didn't go over too well."

Elizabeth sighed, remembering their confrontation and the look on Jason's face. "No, it didn't. I mean, I understand why he was so angry. I'd hate for someone to watch me if I was trying to be alone. I feel like such a creep."

She watched her feet, taking smaller steps to slow her pace. She didn't want to look at Sonny, afraid of his reaction and ashamed of her actions. But she felt his hand circle her shoulders. They halted their movements.

"Hey," he said, "don't get all shy on me now after everything we've talked about today."

"It's not… I just feel really stupid, you know? I mean, why didn't I just leave when I saw him? Why did I insist on watching him? I invaded his space and took advantage of him. I just…I should have told him I was there."

"Well… He probably knew you were there."

"Yeah? How? Since he doesn't speak has he, like, developed some kind of super-

sensitive hearing or something? Eyes in the back of his head?" she said, sarcastically.

"Not _exactly_. Squeaky doors."

"What?"

"The church doors. I noticed he was oiling them."

"Oh," she said, blushing.

"Relax, Elizabeth. Jason doesn't hold grudges."

"I don't know, Sonny. I might have to disagree with you there. I know you're just trying to make me feel better, but he's always looking at me. Even when he thinks I don't know, I can feel him doing it.

"And he does things just to spite me, you know? Like today! He brought me to you, because he couldn't stand to be in my presence until you got back. He just _had_ to get rid of me as soon as he could! That, to me, does not exactly sound like a guy that doesn't hold a grudge. And, okay, I don't really blame him. We've been over the list of things I've done to him. But, come on! It wouldn't have killed him to spend ten minutes in the same room with--"

"Elizabeth?"

"…me. Because, God forbid, we actually get along for once!"

"Elizabeth."

"I mean, he's just so…so infuriating!"

"Elizabeth!"

"Yeah?"

"You're rambling."

"Uh, yeah, sorry, I do that when I'm--"

"Nervous," they said in unison.

"Yeah," Elizabeth said, covering her face with her hand.

"He means something to you, doesn't he?"

"I…"

"You don't have to answer if you're not comfortable."

"It's not that. I just… I don't know what's happening. He gets under my skin. I want to know things about him and be around him and I don't even really know why. Everything in me is telling me to run, but I just can't. It makes no sense."

Sonny smiled a knowing smile.

"It will. Give it time," he said, softly.

"Sonny?" Elizabeth said, meeting his gaze. "Don't mention any of this to Jason, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed.

* * *

Elizabeth was nervous and if she didn't have to be sitting in the large lecture hall waiting to have her art critiqued she wouldn't have been there at all. 

She could see the smug smile on Professor Sharpy's face while he stood at the front of the class, setting his briefcase on the wooden desk and then taking his seat. The little bastard enjoyed this part of his job more than a masochist enjoyed being struck with a wooden paddle. The thought made her smile, perhaps Sharpy was a kinky perv who enjoyed leather whips and torture as much as he hated his students' art. Ick! Too much information!

She shook her head to clear her brain. God would have to strike her dead before she would have thoughts like those again.

"And who shall be my first victim today?" the pudgy man barked, cracking his knuckles and scanning the room.

This was the part that got to most of the students. Having to stand in front of their classmates, while their asshole Prof ripped apart their work, was not an easy task. Embarrassment was too kind a word for how it felt.

"Miss Harper."

Sandwiched between a lightly-snoring Lucky and Elizabeth, Trisha embraced the latest feminist rock CD she had just purchased, while sipping on some hot coffee, totally oblivious to the call from her Professor.

Liz nudged Harper in the side. It was harder than she intended but it did the trick.

Trisha's eyes sprang open and she glared at Liz. "What?!"

Her voice carried through the lecture hall and everyone turned to look at her. Elizabeth pointed to the head of the class and smiled politely at their waiting Prof.

"Oh, right." She pulled the headphones from her ears and sat up straight.

"Miss Harper, come to the front and bring your art with you."

"I don't have it," she told him nonchalantly, taking another sip of her coffee.

"Excuse me?"

Dr. Sharpy's nose turned up and he watched his young pupil.

Harper had no remorse and would not stoop so low as kissing the old fart's ass. She didn't have her work there was no point to lie about it."I -said-I-don't-have-it," Trisha said loudly punctuating each word.

"And why not?"

"I didn't feel inspired," she said flatly, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"You weren't inspired? Did you all hear that? Miss Harper was not inspired! It must be such a great challenge to live in that head of yours. Not inspired!" he scoffed.

"Yeah, well, maybe this class has drained the life right out of me." She didn't even attempt to whisper.

Liz looked at her and shook her head, begging her to stop.

"If this class is such a bother for you, Miss Harper, you might consider not coming back." He frowned, pulling his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"No, I think I'll stick it out." Replacing the headphones to her ears, she cranked the volume up and pulled out a magazine from her book bag.

"If there is anyone else who wasn't "feeling inspired" to quote Miss Harper, then they might as well leave now. This class is not a joke, people. Most of you are in your last year. You know, and I know, this class could be the difference between graduation and the unemployment lines. At the end of term I'm sure Miss Harper will see where her lack of inspiration gets her, as will you all if you don't shape up. Do I make myself clear?"

Elizabeth sat there watching student after student being picked apart by their bird-brained Prof. She was dreading her turn. She hoped that by slouching down in her seat, he might forget about her. Where was Dexter? Why did he have to pick today of all days to get the flu? Still, she held hope she would be forgotten.

No such luck would come to her and when her name was called, Harper took off her headphones and woke Lucky up with a smack to his thigh. "Wake up, idiot! Liz is up."

Lucky rubbed the sleep from his eyes and grabbed a quick sip of Trisha's coffee before she pulled it away from him.

"Get your own!"

"You're nasty in the morning, but I forgive you, only because I know you've got all that sexual tension for me and it comes out as anger." He winked at her and grabbed the back of the chair in front of him, watching as Liz made her way to the front of the class.

Her canvas was covered in an old bed sheet, but they had been privileged to see it before class. It was a landscape of the grounds at the monastery. Both Lucky and Harper had been impressed, but would the professor?

Elizabeth was actually happy with her work and thought the effort would shine through. She unwrapped the painting and presented it to Dr. Sharpy. He took it in his hands and studied it.

"Mediocre work, Miss Webber. There is nothing new or original about this. I expected more from you." He set the painting down and took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes and then returning them to his face. He then took the class list from his table and read from it. "Robert Young."

"What?" she asked quietly, losing the automatic response of anger to dejection.

Tears sprang to her eyes. She blinked rapidly. The last thing she wanted was to give him the satisfaction of making her cry.

"We're through, Miss Webber. You can go back to your seat."

"But I... Is that all you have to say? You're not even going to give me some suggestions or guide me to the right path?" Her eyes grew large and the anger returned to her. How was she supposed to do her best when she didn't know what he wanted?

"I can't tell you what to paint, or how to do it, for that matter. At this stage of the game if you can't figure that out maybe you should quit. Robert Young."

"I won't quit!" Elizabeth said quietly.

"What was that?"

"I said I won't quit." This time the statement held more gumption. She believed her words and wanted him to as well.

"That's fine, Miss Webber, now go back to your seat. The rest of the class is waiting." He motioned with his arm like he was shooing away a fly, waiting as Robert, the next student to be critiqued, made his way to the front of the class.

"I won't quit and you can't stop me from doing what I want. Just because you're a bitter hack who couldn't make it, doesn't mean you have any right to bash the rest of us." Her voice rose and her nostrils flared.

"Jesus, she's gone nuts," Lucky whispered to Trisha from their place in the lecture hall.

"That's enough, Miss Webber! Go back to your seat now or get out of my class!"

Elizabeth scanned her eyes over the class, watching her friends holding their breath. What was she doing? She was so passionate about her art and to be dismissed in a few seconds had done nothing for her confidence. She was pissed and she knew she had taken it too far. Picking up her painting, she walked past Robert and went up the aisle until she was out the door.

"Come on, Spence!" Trisha grabbed Lucky's jacket and made her way out of her seat.

Lucky followed Trisha.

They rushed out the door.

"Liz?"

Harper and Lucky walked over to Elizabeth who was seated on a bench. Her painting was thrown in the trash bin and her face was streaked in tears.

"I let him get to me," she said quietly.

"Come on, let's get out of here," Trisha said, taking Liz's hand.

Lucky grabbed the painting from the trash and followed the women silently.

Lucky opened the door and directed them to a table at the back of Kelly's. He hated to see girls cry. There was nothing he could do or say to make them feel better. It was at times like this he wished he had paid closer attention to his mother. She was always telling him how girls were supposed to be treated, but did he ever listen?

Elizabeth wiped her eyes and settled onto the chair. The waitress came over and took their order, leaving the trio alone.

"He's a jerk!" Lucky burst into the silent conversation when he couldn't handle the quiet, tentative looks any longer.

Trisha looked up to silence him. "Lucky."

With a look of determination on his face Lucky continued, "No. No really, he is! If he can't see how talented you two are...well, then, he's nuts!"

"Thanks, Spence," Elizabeth sniffled, taking the napkin he offered her.

Trisha frowned. It was times like this that their differences really shined through. Where Trisha was laidback and unaffected by the grumpy Professor, Elizabeth was torn and hurt.

"Really, Liz, don't let this upset you. He tore up almost everyone's art." Harper attempted words of comfort which to her ears always came out wrong.

She was good at being a friend even if she didn't know it and Liz recognized her attempts.

"I know," Liz confided, wiping her eyes and cheeks with the starched cloth napkin. "But no one else called him a hack and stormed out. I'm such a complete idiot!"

She laughed and it sounded bitter even to her own ears. Running her fingers through her hair, she was not pleased with the tangled knots her fingers separated, causing mild pain.

"You're not an idiot," Trisha said softly, rubbing her back.

"Not an idiot?" She laughed again, this time harsher. Her face was red and her eyes were raw, and the thing that was broken the most was her spirit. The fire and energy that was all Elizabeth Imogene Webber was forgotten for the time being, taken over by self-pity and loathing. "I just ruined my only chance of getting a recommendation from one of the top art professors in the country; I'd say that makes me an idiot."

"Hon, no one likes to be told that something they've worked very hard on is mediocre. I'd say you took it quite well considering some of the other tantrums you've had in your life."

Elizabeth smiled and looked up into the eyes of one of her best friends. "I do throw quite the good tantrum, don't I?" She laughed softly.

"Liz, you own the patent on great tantrums!" Trisha affirmed reassuringly.

"Some of the best," Lucky interjected.

"Thanks, guys." Elizabeth smiled and wiped her face. "I'm starved. Crying really takes a lot out of a girl."

"Tell me about it!" Lucky sighed.

* * *

Elizabeth was in a good mood--no a great mood. Her time at the monastery had been so inspirational. It seemed every time she went there she was struck by plenty of ideas. And after the disappointment with Dr. Sharpy, she really needed some inspiration. 

Sonny had become such a good friend to her. He was like the big brother she never had. Even though, technically, she _did_ have a half-brother who was the product of an extramarital affair on her father's part. But he was much older and a jerk, so she never did see much of him. Besides he was always the golden child. And she hated being in his shadow. Blood relations did not always dictate how you would get along with someone and it was definitely true for Liz and her brother. All he ever did was tease her when they were kids and now that they were adults she'd had little to no contact with him for years.

Then there was Jason.

Big, strong, Jason Morgan. Just the thought of him made her face flush and her heart beat quicken. Those damn eyes of his were going to be the death of her! And his hands. Such large, beautiful hands. She giggled softly to herself, remembering the way he'd touched her face and how alive it made her feel; how much she wanted him to touch her again and not just in a friendly way. She smiled, thinking of all the wicked ways he _could_ touch her, even though it had been so long since she'd_ wanted _to be touched. Jason was a mystery she wanted to solve and would do her damnedest to coax him out of his shell, maybe even get him talking again.

So Sonny fit the bill of big brother more than her real one ever had and she was enjoying it.

And Jason... was nothing like a brother.

Sonny had fed her so many times over the past week she thought she would surprise him with a special treat. Using her small oven, that had been a gift from her grandmother, she slaved all day making cookies and brownies in her cramped studio. She wrapped them up in cellophane, stuck them in a metal container and completed the package with pink ribbon, creating curls by pulling the strings taut and then running the blade of her scissors over it. She felt a little Martha Stuart like; it was a good thing she didn't own any stocks.

Sticking the package into her backpack, she threw in her small sketchbook and some pencils before she zipped it up and lugged it over her shoulder.

A light snow was just beginning to fall when she knocked on the door.

Elizabeth stood motionless.

Jason, casually dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, stood face-to-face with her. Blue was a good color on him. It made his eyes pop—those incredibly intense eyes that were now focused solely on her.

"Hi, Jason," she said, surprised to find her voice steady. Her chin wobbled from the icy chill that had her frozen to the bone and her smile felt a little crooked.

Jason shifted out of the way, permitting her entrance into the toasty house. It didn't take a genius to see she was freezing.

"It's getting cold out," she said absently, squeezing past him.

Unconsciously, even as she tried to block it from her brain, she inhaled and an undercurrent of something spicy, almost like cinnamon only not quite as strong, invaded her senses. She found herself leaning into Jason, trying to get to the source. And then there was something softer, something lighter beyond the smells coming from the house and oven and beyond the crackling fire. There was Jason.

After what Sonny had told her, she wasn't quite sure how to act around Jason. Now that she knew he had a reason for keeping his distance, she felt weird. He wasn't just the big ogre that made her heart race anymore. Now he was the wounded soul that had a reason to be angry and distant…but that didn't make her heart race any less. Deep down, she wanted to take care of him. If he'd let her.

Jason nodded and closed the door, brushing off the snow that had fallen onto his shoulder in the short time. He stood there looking at her until she shifted and he sensed he was making her uncomfortable.

"Is Sonny around?" She waited, watching his eyes flicker with some emotion before the mask of indifference was back in place.

"Did someone call my name?" Sonny asked, slipping into the kitchen, darting looks between his best friend and the girl he'd come to adore. "Elizabeth, I'm glad to see you! Here, let me take your jacket."

Jason turned, went back to the kitchen table and picked up the pad of paper he'd been calculating expenses on.

"Hi," she said, not able to hide the smile that lit her face. She handed Sonny her coat.

"Yesterday was the big critique, right?" Sonny began to tie his usual apron around his waist. He faced her, waiting expectantly.

"If you could call it that," she said tightly, trying to hide the bitter sting in her voice.

"So what did your teacher say about those wonderful paintings you've been doing?"

"My professor didn't like my work." She frowned.

Sonny was at a momentary loss for words. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. I know it wasn't my best work, but I thought he would at least consider the effort I put into it. I'll just have to try harder." She sighed and shook her head. "The problem is I really _am_ giving it my all. I'm starting to doubt myself. Maybe I'm not good enough, Sonny."

Sonny came around the counter and patted her shoulder lightly. "Miss Webber, I think you are very talented and I don't like to hear you talk so negatively. Is being an artist what you really want?"

Jason glared at the pair and could barely stand the closeness, not only physically, but emotionally. They seemed to have a bond and for some reason it made him feel sick. Elizabeth never talked to him about her art; didn't talk to him that much at all for that matter. Not that he'd made himself accessible or would be able to answer her back. It shouldn't have bothered him, but it did.

"I want it more than anything!" she declared.

"Then go for it. If you want it bad enough, you _will_ succeed. Now stop doubting yourself and go draw something."

He smiled and pulled her against his side for a short hug.

"Thanks, Sonny. Here." Elizabeth presented him the container with the brownies she had made. "I made these for you."

"Oh," she said, pulling out more containers, "and these are for Johnny and Francis. I know Johnny has a real sweet tooth," she added, handing him two smaller packages with tags printed in calligraphy and just as neatly wrapped.

Then her face dropped.

"Oh, I-I forgot about Jason." She turned to Jason and frowned. "I'm sorry."

How the hell had she forgotten about a man who'd occupied her dreams more times than she cared to remember? She watched him, saw the frown on his face and felt just awful. "I don't know what I was thinking."

Sonny opened the package and took a bite of the brownie. "They're very good," he told her after he'd swallowed.

"Here, Jason, try one."

Jason shook his head and went back to writing.

"Oh come on, just try one. I'm not trying to poison you, if that's what you're worried about…although that does give me a good idea." Elizabeth laughed, taking a brownie and bringing it towards him. "Just try it."

He looked up just when the brownie began to make its descent against his mouth.

Elizabeth's fingers brushed his lips and it warmed her through. She could feel the hot burst of air against her skin and the surprising pleasure that came with it.

Jason felt it, too. His lips tingled from her touch and they ached to taste her skin; her lips; other parts of her body. His eyes widened in surprise. He spared a glance at Sonny who was smiling like he'd set the whole thing up himself.


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Remembering Tibet  
Author: Kat/Yuppiekat  
Rating: R  
Disclaimer: I don't own...well, anything pertaining to GH.  
Summary: This is an Alternate Universe fic. (And, possibly, a strange one at that.)-- The past haunts Jason and Elizabeth. In order to heal, they'll need each other.  
Notes: There are a few things that you should know about this fic... This fic was started (I believe) in 2002, but time constraints and frustration about the show stalled the writing of this fic. I am in the middle of re-reading and revising all the chapters. I'm not sure how often I can post. I wish I had more time to work on this, but you'll have to settle for a sporadic posting schedule. The character of Lucky is, well, very out of character. I'm aware of that. There is also a lot of head hopping in this fic... Um, sorry about that.

* * *

Elizabeth stumbled back and set the rest of the brownie on the table. Her skin was warm and tingling where Jason's lips had brushed. Damn, the room was hot. She spared a glance at Jason. His eyes were on her. Gaping at her with such intensity she thought she was going to spontaneously combust. This was not good. Not good at all. She opened her mouth to speak, but her throat had gone dry and all that came out was a mousy squeak. How embarrassing! 

Looking left to right, she searched for an out. Something to distract herself from Jason's piercing eyes and the warmth pooling in her belly. God, why couldn't she think of anything?! For once in her life, she was at a loss for words.

Then she caught a glimpse of the iced-up window and through the slates of clear glass, she watched the snow falling fast. Her eyes wandered form the window back to Jason's face. Yep, he was still staring. She swallowed hard. It was now or never.

"It's snowing!" she announced, effectively breaking the trance. There. That ought to do the trick.

Sonny stepped over to the window and peered out. "So it is."

An enormous grin lit his face. He knew Elizabeth's exact intention; that she was doing her best to get out of an awkward situation. Why torture the girl? They all knew very well it had been snowing since she came in.

"This is perfect. I've been waiting for it to snow like this, so I could sketch something in motion. There's something so magical about snow, isn't there? It's just so...beautiful."

The snow flittered in the sky; a touch of white on a blanket of blue. Swooping and swirling above the partially covered green grass, the flakes made an unsteady decent and began to coat the earth. The wind picked up and turned over the snow, wafting it back up into the air only to be kicked around again.

Jason watched Elizabeth in utter fascination, squinting against the dimming light to see her features clearly. She turned, ever so slightly and when she did, his breath hitched in his throat and his blood screamed through his ears, making the tips a startling red. She was breathtaking. The slight indent in her chin as it jutted upright was more than sexy and watching her studying the falling flakes outside the window was a pleasure to witness. But it was when the corners of her mouth turned up for a small smile that he nearly turned her around and kissed those lips. The tiny wrinkles that formed in the crease of those too-blue eyes when she smiled made him lose all rational thought and he nearly moaned.

He didn't want to be feeling this way. Didn't want to touch her or find out if those lips were even softer than her skin. But that was all he could think about.

Standing only a few feet away he leaned against the window pane, feeling the cool air through the glass. The feel of it sparked something inside him, but he tried to shake it off. Closing his eyes, it was even harder to keep the memories and frightful feelings at bay.

He didn't notice when Elizabeth looked at him with question in her eyes or when she began to speak to Sonny. Everything was starting to blur and he was lost. Jason had drifted off to a place where memories pervade everything...

Elizabeth turned from the window and caught sight of the silent man that always made her blood pump harder. His eyes were distant, fixed on some spot outside the window where the snow fell in a steady path. He seemed to be reliving something and it wasn't her place to ask what. After all, they'd just started to try to become friends. She wasn't going to ruin it by pushing him.

"I-I think I'll go out and draw some."

Noticing the change in the room, how the tension slipped into something else, Sonny smiled gently. "All right, Elizabeth, but bundle up. It's getting cold."

"I will, Sonny. Thanks for--thanks for caring," Elizabeth said quietly and Sonny couldn't help notice the sad tone she used. Slipping out the door, Elizabeth waved. "See you in a little while."

Jason was still deep in his thoughts when Sonny turned to him. "Jason?!"

When Jason didn't answer, Sonny gave him a slight nudge.

Blinking rapidly, he finally snapped out of it and gave his friend a questioning look.

"Where'd you go just then?"

Shaking his head slowly, Jason gave his friend a smile and turned up the stairs to go to his room, leaving Sonny alone in the kitchen.

Watching long after both Jason and Elizabeth left, Sonny couldn't help his heart from feeling heavy. Both of his friends seemed to be in so much pain and there was nothing he could do about it.

* * *

Jason's eyes felt heavy. He tried to concentrate on the travel book he held in his hands. Leaning against the headboard of his bed, he flattened the pillows under him to get more comfortable. But it wasn't working. All the distractions he tried to provide himself with wouldn't keep the memories from resurfacing. Finally giving into his body, he slipped down under the covers and closed his eyes, prepared to take a relaxing afternoon nap. 

_He couldn't be sure if the gunshots had been hours or days ago. The only thing he really knew was that he was truly alone. He remembered the scream of bullets when they ripped through the air and buzzed by his ears. Running until his legs felt like rubber, he never once stopped until he heard one steel bullet strike the flesh of the man that had taught him everything. _

_By the time he reached him, he was clinging to life and all Jason could do was drag him along and hope for the best._

_Standing for a brief moment before retaking his position, he could still make out the crimson snow that spread as far as the eye could see. He knew it would lead them to him and he hadn't come this far to be caught now. The blood on his fingers and palms was dry; caked-in like it had become a permanent fixture on his skin, despite the blistering snow that swirled around him and continued to drench him. There was no way to get warm. His lips had already turned blue and hypothermia was setting in. His eyes were so heavy._

_The rotting smell of maggots and sewage burned his sensitive nostrils that were already coated in a thick, dark coat of soot. The sour taste of bile and rancid food blanketed his tongue in a heavy, binding layer of disgust. His stomach was empty and he'd consumed any food he had on him hours earlier, leaving an angry, gnawing, hunger in his belly. _

_The air, cold and still, wrapped its vile, burned arms around him, keeping him fixed in one spot. The night sky was a dirty gray, filled with smoke and sparks of yellow flame that had yet to extinguish. His legs, buried deep in cold, wet, icy mush, were like lead and even if asked to, knowing his life was in danger, he couldn't have moved for anything. The beat of his heart was a strained, grating sound he'd never taken notice of until then. And the air in his lungs, rushed and burning against the soft pink tissue, had never felt more like punishment than it did then._

_He wished he wasn't so afraid, so torturously lonely and so frightened. Maybe wishing for death wasn't noble, but he wanted it; wanted to feel the last bit of energy rush from his system while he collapsed on the ground, refusing to go on. But he was a fighter. He hated his will to live and the air that kept him alive. Hated that he was scared to close his eyes and give in to the darkness that had been beckoning him for hours. But he was a fighter._

_Still, he crouched in the deep tunnel, cloaked in night and masked by the confusion of the day, bathed in urine and excrement as he hid from a source yet to be revealed. Danger lurked at each turn. Each direction was a deadly trap that could give into his desire to die. But he was a fighter. _

_And all of this because he'd had parents he once knew and was left what they could no longer possess or need in their eternal sleep._

_His toes had long surpassed numbness. They swished in the murky depths where he hid. His eyes were growing too heavy to keep open. Fingers and face turned a dark purple from the sheer cold, pained him when he moved and so he tried to block it out. Exhaustion, nor hypothermia, nor fear, were going to keep him hidden much longer. He was going to have to move. Although the prospect had his entire body shaking, he knew there was no other way._

_Sparing one last look beside him, he faced the dead eyes of the man that had been his mentor, his companion, his friend. Even though he'd dragged him miles in the snow, fighting the winds and blizzard, he hadn't made it. There was so much blood. All around him was dark crimson blood, some already coagulating and it turned his stomach with its pungent smell. Three bullet holes to the chest and still he'd lived for a while before his lungs caved and he ceased to move. Jason knew he had to leave and it had to be soon._

_Forcing himself to stand, he pulled his torso onto solid ground and surveyed the land. It was wide open, no cover or trees to hide him while he made his way to the neighboring village for help. Closing his eyes, he fought the tiredness and all at once took off in a run. _

_His legs burned with prickles of pain and his head felt like it had a vise wrapped around it. Stumbling, he hit the ground hard, breathing in air so fast he could barely catch himself. Not being able to hold it down any longer, he felt vomit rise in his throat and he emptied his stomach on the clean white snow._

_The tears that came without his knowledge froze to his face and when he looked around, he knew there was no one to rely on but himself. Standing once again on shaky legs, he pushed himself to move. Trudging through the snow, he tried desperately to wave off the dizziness that consumed his body. _

_Any other boy of twelve would have given up; would have fallen down in the snow and let death claim them—hell, even grown men would have. Jason was unlike most people._

_To him, it seemed that his brain was in some dreamy state and his body was sluggish, unable to contend with the harsh wind that threw his weak skeleton around. But he plodded along just the same. _

_His mind was playing tricks with him. The light seemed to shift and change colors. Too weary to reach his eyes to the sky, he had to trust himself and believe that he was going the right way. Thankful for the dark, he crossed over the land, fearing the harsh sunlight against the white walls of earth would have been too much to bear._

_His heart dropped when his feet hit the rocky underground and he knew he'd come to the mountain. There was no way around it, and he knew if he were to survive the only way to do it would be to climb it. His knees buckled, but he caught himself before he hit the hard earth. Taking a tentative step, he reached his child-sized, swollen hands up the rocky surface and braced one foot against its base. With great effort, he pulled himself up and continued that way, ignoring the agonizing pain as the sharp rocks jabbed into his skin and cut deep wounds into his hands and knees. Leaving a trail of fresh blood, he kept focused on his task, unable to stop for fear he'd never start up again._

_Minutes later--or more likely hours, he conquered the top and feasted on the sight of the village just off in the distance. His throat burned for a sip of water and his body ached for a warm bed. Just a little further and he'd be there. With renewed strength and foolishness playing in his head, he sped down the mountain like a tumbleweed in autumn breaking away from its roots and set free by the wind._

_Village in sight, Jason barely had the strength to toil through the snow. His legs gave out and he collapsed to the ground, hitting his head on a jagged rock, cutting deep into his scalp. The blood ran out of the wound and coated his hair, making the short blonde crop a sticky red. Trickling down, it ran into his ear, making the noise from the village blur._

_A short time later an American woman came upon him, and frightened by the blood and state of the boy in front of her, she ran for her husband. Other men got wind of it and followed the large man, with enormous thighs and shoulders, to where Jason had dropped._

_Hearing sounds somewhere close, Jason tried to open his eyes, tried to move, but it was all in vain. Even breathing was a difficult task and it felt like there was a massive amount of weight on his chest._

_"It's a boy. Get some blankets," the burly man called over his shoulder, taking Jason in his arms and holding him against his warm body._

_Jason's eyes fluttered open and for a moment he struggled with the man._

_"Settle down," the man said, clutching him closer. "You're going to hurt yourself." _

_Moving back towards the houses, the man carried Jason with his wife at his side. Entering the house, a flash of heat covered Jason and he knew he was safe._

_Sticking out his tongue to try to moisten his dry, cracked lips, Jason tried to speak, but was quickly silenced._

_"Don't try to talk," came the gentle voice of a woman. She took off his wet, bloodied clothes and threw a blanket over her little patient. "We'll get you warmed up and get some food in you and then you can tell us what happened," she said kindly. Her voice was tender like he'd imagined so many times a mother's voice would be._

_Somehow, even though he'd learned never to trust a stranger, he fell asleep. When he woke, he felt an ache in his head unlike anything he'd ever felt, but he was warm and secure in a large blanketed bed._

_"You're up," said the tiny woman. She brought a cloth to his head, smoothing away the smudges of blood. _

_"Here, drink this." _

_Handing him a cup of soup, she smiled gently when he slurped the contents down without regard._

_His eyes were hard when he looked back at her and set the cup on the table. "I have to leave. Where are my clothes?"_

_Again the woman smiled at the boy, lighting her dark umber eyes. "I've cleaned them, they're on the chair. Now, do you want to tell me what you were doing out all by yourself in this weather?"_

_"The village burned down. Everyone is dead," Jason said bluntly while he dressed. "I have to contact my uncle in America."_

_Stunned by the cold words, the woman stepped back. "The village...everyone's dead? You must be mistaken."_

_Shaking his head, he flinched with the motion. "It's true. I have to get word to my uncle. I can't stay here anymore. It's not safe for you. I've stayed too long already. You'll be in danger if they find me here."_

_Eyes widened, the lady's face paled. "Who? Whatever do you mean? I think you hit your head harder than we thought."_

_Hardly feeling the sting of the sores on his hands and head, Jason went to the door and touched the handle. "Thank you for finding me. I know I would have died. I have to go now. It's better if you forget you saw me." _

_Then he was out the door aware when the woman stood and watched him rush off. _

_Running far from the house he'd just occupied, Jason was more afraid than he'd ever been in his life. Almost out of range, he heard the distinct sound of a gun and a shrill feminine scream._

_"No!" he cried, sinking down to his knees, aggravating the wounds on his tender skin, but not feeling the pain physically. His heart was too shattered to focus on the elements or the throb in his legs. That's when he knew he was poison and that no matter what, no one should love him, nor care for him, if they wanted to live._

Coming out of his nightmare, Jason breathed hard. Taking in his surroundings, in time he realized he was safe. Struggling with the blankets, he sat upright. Sweat had matted his hair to his head and small drops of the salty substance rolled down his back.

He fingered the scar under his damp hair and closed his eyes. The cut was jagged and sometimes he allowed himself to forget it was there and everything that it represented. He allowed himself to forget those days in the wilderness where he waved off frostbite; delved into a hypothermic sleep for two days, and allowed harm to come to a woman who only wanted to help him. He allowed himself to forget, just not for too long. Getting out of bed, he pulled the soaked shirt over his head and went to the dresser to pull out another one. Looking out the window his eyes grew wide with anger.

* * *

Elizabeth opened her mouth and let a perfect white flake of snow fall against her tongue. She laughed softly at her own silliness. Pulling out her sketch pad, she moved over to one of the benches that scattered the property. Dusting off the snow with her mitten, she took a seat and watched the snow fall gracefully. Without much thought, she began to hum a simple melody while she went to work outlining the scattered trees. 

Bliss.

That's how she felt. Utterly happy.

She couldn't remember a time when she was so relaxed. The fear and loneliness that often plagued her were still somewhere in the back of her mind, but for the moment she was in her own world. A world where the snow fell against her skin and it felt cool and nice. A world where she didn't have to pretend to be someone she wasn't and where no one was judging her. A world where she was free.

The sun had begun to set and the sky was illuminated in a striking red. Stopping for a moment to take it all in, her eyes wandered over the trees towards the horizon. The color, so deep and pure, reminded her of something she just couldn't place. When it began to fade she wondered if she'd ever see that shade of red again. It reminded her of years ago, of a time when life didn't seem such a struggle. Why couldn't she remember?

Her ears picked up the soft sound of winter. It was quiet, but if you listened carefully; held your breath, you could hear the snow brightening the world, spilling its magical song onto the ground and trees where it fell.

Using the last of the light, she bent her head to continue the drawing. Well into her craft, Elizabeth wasn't aware of the footsteps behind her. The soft crunch of snow was barely detectable. Even if she wasn't concentrating so hard, she probably wouldn't have heard it.

And when a hand came down on her shoulder she let out a small scream. Jumping off the bench, Elizabeth tripped over her school bag and spiraled onto her butt. Half expecting to see Jason and ready to blast him for sneaking up on her again, her face scrunched into a frown before she looked up to meet the eyes of a much older man.

"Are you all right?" the elderly man asked. He peered down at Elizabeth on the hard earth.

Standing, she dusted herself off. "I'm sorry, you just startled me."

"Oh, my dear, I'm sorry! That was not my intention. I saw you drawing and I guess my curiosity got the best of me. I'll leave you alone so you can get back to it. Surely, you don't want an old man pestering you."

The man wore a black starched shirt over his wide shoulders that were covered in a tan trench-coat and rounded-out frame. His silver hair shimmered against the falling snow, lighting it so it danced with color. His eyes, although not unfriendly, held a glimmer of warning in them. Bushy eyebrows and drooping wrinkled skin, thin like waxy paper, gave the impression that he'd lived a long life, but still had fire in him. He was old, but certainly still of sound mind. The smile that creased his lips and tucked those wrinkles back some, gave the impression that he might be kind if he wasn't trying so hard.

Elizabeth looked into his eyes and gave her best smile. "No, no it's fine. I never object to a little company."

Clapping his hands together, the air whistled with the movement. "Well then, I'm honored."

"So, do you live here?" Elizabeth asked. Her teeth chattered, making her aware how long she'd been outside and how cold it'd gotten.

"Why, yes, I do," he said happily, showing off his white teeth that Elizabeth was almost positive were not real. In fact, he'd probably fished them out of some container that very morning.

Her eyes took on a humorous flare when she looked back at him, trying not to laugh. "So then you're a priest?" she questioned, looking him over. It seemed to fit.

His lips curled into a half-smile, that, to her, seemed forced and if one looked harder they might see that it was sinister. "Why, yes, my dear, I am."

Moving closer to her, he followed when she started walking slowly.

Although she couldn't quite put her finger on it, Elizabeth began to feel a sense of unease. She sensed he was studying her. For what purpose, she didn't know. Heading toward the house where they could be seen was her first thought. She knew Sonny would not let anything happen to her.

"Hmm... It must be an interesting way of life. All those people confessing their sins. I bet you have some really good stories."

"Well, Miss-"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm Elizabeth Webber."

"Father Main."

His hand reached for hers and when their fingers brushed she felt a cold chill wrap around her tiny body and, although she couldn't understand the feeling, she didn't withdraw.

"Elizabeth. That is a lovely name."

She blushed. "Thank you."

"As I was saying, there are many people with secrets and it's my job to hold them, but I have to tell you, there are times when those secrets are very hard to keep." He laughed, deep and throaty.

"I'll bet," Elizabeth said quietly, turning to look at their surroundings, surprised they were so close to the house already.

Coming closer, the man touched her arm lightly. "Is there something you would like to talk about?"

Startled by the contact, she decided to pick her words wisely. "Oh, no. I-"

"Elizabeth?" Sonny said softly, trying not to give away his temper that began to flare when, from his window, he saw the exchange between the man and Elizabeth. The only thing on his mind was to get the snake away from her.

"Sonny! I was just talking to Father Main," Elizabeth said shyly, aware that something was wrong with her friend.

Sonny scoffed. "Is that who he told you he was? Edward, you know Jason wouldn't like you hanging around here. Elizabeth, why don't you go inside the house and start some hot chocolate? You must be frozen to the bone."

Elizabeth felt safer and braver now that Sonny was around. "I will in a minute. I was just telling-"

"Elizabeth-" Sonny cut her off, looking over his shoulder, hearing Jason approach and already seeing the anger flitting behind his eyes.

"Well, if it isn't my hoodlum grandson now." Edward's eyes turned a cold, icy blue. His wrinkled face took on the shadows of the fading sun covering half with an eerie glow one might see in the early days of cinema.

Looking at Father Main—Edward—skeptically, Elizabeth said, "Wait, I thought you said you were a priest?"

"Yes, well, dear, you have to be careful who you trust. Isn't that right, Jason?"

Jason's eyes narrowed to slits. He stood stone-faced against his grandfather. Stepping forward, he surprised Elizabeth by taking her hand and guiding her behind him, so that her view was blocked.

"Still not talking I see," Edward continued. He glared at Jason, anger making his brows come together.

"I think you'd better go, Edward," Sonny said calmly, rationally.

Turning his stare on the shorter man, Edward spoke. "And what are you going to do hmm, Mr. Corinthos?"

Stepping out of the bush, two armed guards stepped up beside the Quartermain head.

"Just leave." Sonny's nostrils flared.

Elizabeth's heart was racing. She could feel the tension and anger in the air and felt a sharp wave of fear rush through her veins. She knew what this kind of anger could lead to and she wasn't sure she wanted to witness it, but there was a part of her that was desperate to see what was happening. There was a part of her that hurt for Sonny and Jason and made her want to protect them.

Despite her best efforts to see past Jason, she couldn't. He was like a wall and the only way to get by him was to poke her head to the side while she gripped the leather of his jacket in her tiny manicured hands.

Jason remained still, aware of Elizabeth moving behind him. He could feel her gripping his jacket and tugging lightly even if she wasn't aware she was doing it.

"I see through you. You may have given up life in the mob, but I still see it in your eyes. You're an angry man, Corinthos, and one of these days another innocent victim will be hurt because of you. It could even be you, Miss Webber," he said, directing his gaze to Elizabeth when he saw her dart out from behind Jason. "You watch yourself; don't trust either one of these men. See, they'll soil your mind and make you think they're decent, but don't turn your back to them."

If possible, Sonny became even more agitated and Elizabeth could see his hands clenching and unclenching by his side.

"Like you're in a position to judge, Edward. How many people have died because of you?"

Edward pointed an accusatory finger into Sonny's chest. "I see you've put that halo on your head again, young man. But we all know Brenda would still be alive if she hadn't been slumming with the likes of you. You're the reason she died. Her and your child."

Sonny's rage suddenly exploded and he grabbed the lapels of Edward's coat and tugged hard, startling the old man.

"Don't you ever talk about my wife like that again! Do you understand?"

It took a second for Edward to realize what was happening, but once he did, a smile spread over his face, slowly making its way to his eyes. "Go ahead, Corinthos. I know you've been wanting to kill me for a long time. Here's your chance. Where are your goons when you need them, huh?"

Edward laughed a cold heartless laugh.

Sonny's dark eyes narrowed and his temper continued to flare. "Just give me a reason, Edward."

Elizabeth felt Jason trying to move her behind him again to shield her but she protested and he didn't push.

Edward sneered, turning his wrinkled face dark with anger. "You don't have the guts," he said, thinning his lips. He pressed them together in pain when Sonny stepped closer and increased the pressure. His chest felt tight, but he would never give Sonny the satisfaction of knowing it. "Look at you. You're pathetic! Without your armed guards and fortune to back you up, you're nothing. You're a washed up mob boss who's bored, Corinthos, and if you have to use me as an excuse to get back into the business, go ahead."

Sonny laughed an un-humorous laugh, pressing his face so close to Edward he could breathe the other man's air. "When are you going to learn, Edward, that that part of my life is over? Don't talk about my wife or my child again or so help me..."

Edward's eyes widened in mock-horror. "You'll what?"

Sonny shook his head, digging his hands tighter around the material of his coat. "You've pushed one too many buttons, Edward."

"I see you've grown a pair, Corinthos. I actually think you might do something about it. And to think it only took losing your baby boy and your precious wife for it all to happen."

Sonny drew a fist and raised his arm ready to strike, but before he even got any momentum Jason was pulling him away from Edward and laying a restraining hand on his long-time friend. Sonny looked into Jason's eyes and all at once the anger seemed to recede.

Elizabeth watched on in amazement that Jason could have such a calming effect on Sonny. He'd gone off like a loose canon and all Jason had to do was look at him with certain sympathy and Sonny seemed to get the message that it wasn't worth it.

"Go home, Edward," Sonny said. He turned to leave.

Elizabeth went to his side and looked up at him. He looked drained and so tired.

"Sonny, it's okay." Elizabeth said quietly.

"I'd be careful, Miss Webber."

At the mention of her name, Elizabeth turned to face the oldest of the Quartermain clan. "Excuse me?"

Sonny turned around and took a step toward Edward, ignoring Jason's wordless plea not to. There was only so much he could say with a look, after all.

"You see, Miss Webber, be careful who you trust. You never know when one of Mr. Corinthos' mood swings are going to strike. Who knows, maybe he's thirsty for blood again. She's small just like Brenda was. I'm sure you've noticed that, Sonny. She was so small and you still couldn't protect her. Stay away from them; you'll only wind up dead."

Sonny took another step forward, shaking off Jason's hand when he tried to hold him back. "Are you making threats, Edward?"

"Oh no, I wouldn't do that. I'm just saying I'd hate for there to be an accident around here... again."

That was all it took for Sonny to launch his whole body at Edward. Stopped by one of the large bodyguards that stood on either side of Edward, Sonny was treated to the butt of one of their guns. The sound of metal hitting flesh was a horrible combination and one Elizabeth never wanted to hear again. Sonny went down hard and grabbed the side of his face where a red mark was already taking ownership.

Elizabeth flinched and covered her eyes. For so long she'd pretended to be brave, that sometimes she believed herself. But it was at times like this, when the threat of danger and spilled blood loomed in the air that she became aware of the scared child she had been and, to a degree, still was. It wasn't that she was weak. She certainly wasn't that; no one could survive what she had and been called weak. There was a voice though, right in the back of her head, that whispered to her and beckoned her and haunted her nightmare-filled sleep. She could hear that voice clearly now as the anger and tension filled a dark cloud above their heads. Fighting the urge to listen, to retreat into the world where demons took precedence over reality, she closed her eyes, shook her head.

Jason stepped across the lawn and helped Sonny up, never once looking over to the man that had hit him or the man they were protecting.

"I'm okay," Sonny assured Jason once he stood on his own.

Edward tilted his head in the opposite direction. "Let's go."

He moved away from the trio and set about exiting the property. Almost out of range, he let out a distinct laugh, knowing he'd gotten under Sonny's skin and even if Jason hadn't shown it, he knew he was fuming inside. It was only a matter of time before he got what he wanted.

* * *

Satisfied that Quartermain and his guards were out of earshot Sonny picked up what was once a potted plant--now just a clay jar waiting for summer--and slammed it against the concrete driveway. 

Elizabeth's eyes shot open when she heard the crash and suddenly she wasn't seeing Sonny anymore. She'd been taken back to a time in her childhood that was most frightening of all. She'd given in to the memories.

_"Stop, please!"_

_"Mommy!"_

_"Not a word, you little bastard!"_

Jason ignored his best friend's mood swing and kept his eyes trained on Elizabeth. He could see the fear in her features, the trembling of her entire body and the hollow look in her eyes. He could tell, just as he knew with himself every time he had visions of the past, she was somewhere inside herself reliving a moment in time.

Stalking over to Sonny, he pulled his arm and forced him to look at him. With angry eyes--that if had been spoken would have said "_what the fuck are you doing?"--_ Jason stared at Sonny and then pushed him towards Elizabeth.

Feeling his stomach turn, Sonny was absolutely disgusted with himself. He could see the state Elizabeth was in and felt like an absolute asshole.

"Elizabeth?!" Moving closer, he gently touched her arm, making her jump. It seemed enough to get her out of the dark head space she was in.

Feeling embarrassed, Elizabeth's voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry, I-I guess I was somewhere else. What was that all about?"

Sonny scratched his head. He was taken back with the cavalier attitude she seemed to have about the whole thing.

"Nothing you need to worry about, Elizabeth. If you see that man again, don't talk to him okay? Just come and get either Jason or I and we'll handle things."

Elizabeth bit her lip, becoming aware of the tears that were in her eyes. She hoped neither of the men had seen. She wiped them away quickly. "I don't understand. He seemed harmless."

"Looks can be deceiving but... I shouldn't have acted that way," he said tenderly.

"You were angry. He had no right to say what he did."

She wanted to believe that.

Needed to.

She didn't need to be in a place where violence reigned.

Not again.

"I shouldn't have turned violent. Violence is never the answer," he said softly shaking his head.

Looking down at Elizabeth remorsefully, he took her hand and found that she was shaking.

"Elizabeth, are you all right?" he asked, stroking his thumb against the inside of her hand.

Jerking back, she pulled her hand out of his grasp. "I'm fine," she answered quietly, trying to calm her nerves.

No one had a hatred of violence more than she did. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tugged at her sleeves, making sure they covered her arms. Violence was inhuman.

"You're trembling," he said softly, suddenly feeling like a great big oaf. "I'm sorry if I frightened you."

"I'm fine, Sonny. Really," she told him and managed a small smile.

Watching her skeptically, he rubbed the side of his jaw. "Elizabeth, you wouldn't lie to me, would you?"

"No, of course not," she said, looking away.

"I..." Sonny began, stopped when he couldn't find the words and ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

"I'm fine!" she snapped at him.

Cursing under his breath, he fought the need to soothe his own fears. As someone very wise once told him, not everything was about him.

"Elizabeth, no, you're not."

Her eyes were downcast when she spoke again and if he wasn't mistaken there were tears shining in her eyes. "I... I shouldn't have snapped at you. I'm sorry."

Jason watched the exchange helplessly, fighting the urge to pound Sonny into the ground for frightening her and taking Elizabeth into his arms and holding her.

"Don't be sorry," he said gently and took a step toward her.

"Please, just... I'm fine," she said tightly, hoping her voice wouldn't betray her. "I- I think I'm just tired."

"Come into the house. I'll fix you some hot chocolate and then call you a cab. Sound fair?"

She nodded her head, still unable to look up. "I'll be there in a minute."

"All right," he said reluctantly.

Sonny turned to Jason and began to speak in hushed tones.

"Looks like Edward was on a little fact-finding mission," Sonny told Jason pointedly. "I'll call up Francis and Johnny and tell them to take a look around to make sure everything is in order. I'll get them to bring Max. We'll have to have a guard for Elizabeth now."

Sonny wasn't even sure if Jason was listening. All he seemed to be able to focus on was Elizabeth and the lost look she had on her face.

Jason let out a long breath before nodding his head. He hated having to do this, but there was no other way. She was in danger now and he would do everything in his power to keep her safe.

Sparing one last look, Sonny mounted the stairs and entered the house.

Without turning around, Elizabeth could feel that Jason was watching her. She turned slowly, lifting her head so she faced him.

"We... I should go inside," she told him absently, still not moving.

Closing her eyes, she brought up the image of the sky she'd witnessed earlier that night before all the chaos. Finally she remembered why it had affected her so much. She could picture everything so clearly now, she wondered how she could have forgotten in the first place.

Jason watched her, saw her shoulders tense and her eyes harden. He watched a single tear slip down her cheek and he ached to wipe it away. His stomach clenched hard like he'd been punched.

She looked so small. Lonely. Lost.

The silence ticked by twisting heavily on Jason's heart. He waited for any sign that she was okay, that the spit-fire he'd come to adore was still fighting its way to the surface.

"My grandfather was a sailor," Elizabeth said and her face blazed red realizing her statement had come out of thin air.

When she looked at Jason, expecting his eyes to be questioning, she was pleasantly surprised when he seemed to be interested. She needed no prompting to continue.

"When I was a girl, he'd tell me stories of his trips to foreign countries; to places where he didn't understand a word they said, but found the people delightful. That's what he'd always say, _"Elizabeth, the people were delightful! Travel, Elizabeth, see the world. Find out who you are!"_ The funny thing is, I'm afraid to fly, I hate the water, and I get car sick," she said shakily.

Jason desperately wanted to step forward and take her in his arms, smooth down her hair and tell her everything would be all right, but he stood and listened because she needed someone to hear her.

He didn't know what was bothering her or even what she was thinking, but he could see the pain etched on her face; could feel it radiate from her perfect skin and he wanted to take it all away. Her large doe eyes implored him to look at her and he could see so much. So much raw pain that she didn't even know she was showing. He saw it all.

"How am I supposed to find out who I am when I can't get there," she whispered, her voice hoarse and her eyes moist. "There's an old saying, "_Red sky at night sailors' delight, red sky at morn sailors' be warned_." My whole life has been a bright red morning sky," she whispered.

She didn't even know why she was telling him or why she felt comfortable doing so. All she knew was that the past had caught her today and she was in danger of sinking into a dark hole if she didn't do something about it.

"I don't know what I'm talking about," she said, running her fingers through her tousled hair.

He didn't want her to stop. He wanted her to open up to him, even though he knew it was a risk. That he was letting her get too close and that one day, maybe not tomorrow but one day, someone was going to get hurt. He was playing with fire, but he'd walk through it, if it kept her talking.

His heart was pounding so fast he thought he could actually feel it against his chest, but her voice was like air to him and it filled a void in his soul he didn't know he'd been missing.

"Tonight when Sonny and that man were fighting I remembered something about my past, something I can't believe I forgot. There were two people in my life that mattered to me. One was my mother. The other was my grandfather. I didn't get to see him a lot. He and my father never really got along. But I remember how wonderful he was to me. He treated me like a princess and made me believe that not all men..."

She stopped, looked at Jason and closed her eyes.

"He made me believe in fairytales," she whispered. "On one of his trips to Italy, he saw these glassblowers. They made all sorts of things. He said some of it was pretty junky, lots of gold with paint all over it, but the color of the glass was so intense, he had to bring a piece back to show it to me."

Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth tried to blink back her tears.

"I remember it was a beautiful color, like the sky at sunset... like tonight," she explained. "I guess that's what made me think of it. I got to keep it for almost an entire day before my father took it away from me. He thought I might hurt myself," she sighed and turned around, wiping her hand down her face. "He was probably right. I was always so clumsy."

She laughed softly and they both could tell it was forced.

Jason watched her and she seemed to drift to another time and place. Shaking his head, he swore that if he ever could, he'd bring Elizabeth to Italy and let her see the glassblowers herself...if only to see her eyes light up and her smile shine like it had when she spoke of it just then. Taking a tentative step and then another, when she didn't stiffen, he stood behind her and ever-so-gently brought his hand to her shoulder. Tensing at first and then relaxing into his touch, she brought her hand up to cover his.

"Thank you, Jason."

What exactly she was thanking him for, he didn't know, but he was glad to be there for her just the same.

She turned then and he dropped his hand to the side even though what he really wanted to do was pull her into his arms and never let her go.

Looking at him curiously she smiled for real this time.

"You're all sweaty," she said, on instinct, reaching her tiny hand to his forehead.

Jason, caught off guard by the move and her chilled fingers, backed away. He'd almost been able to forget about his own nightmare while he wrapped himself around Elizabeth's needs, but it all came rushing back like a wave of water in the surf when you're just about to shore, tossing you back into the heart of the ocean. He shook from the intensity of it and took a few more steps back.

Elizabeth looked up at him sadly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

Whatever she was going to say was cut off by the sound of voices. Bypassing Elizabeth and the hurt look on her face, Jason was relieved to turn around and get some distance.

He wasn't surprised to find Francis and Johnny standing out in the cold.

"Hey, Jase," Francis said. He slapped him on the back before barreling past him. "Oh, Miss Webber," he exclaimed. "I didn't know you were here. Johnny, look who's here!"

"Jason," Johnny said, tipping his head and walking past him. "Miss Webber, it's so great to see you! How have you been? Been drawing anything good lately?"

Elizabeth smiled shyly and willed her face not to redden. She wasn't used to all the attention. "I've been good," she said, darting between the two men. "My art... well, it's going okay, I suppose. Oh, which reminds me, I have something for the two of you."

"Really?" Francis asked, his eyes lighting up like a little boy on Christmas.

Walking up the steps and into the house, she turned once to make sure they were following and then went in. Fetching her bag where she'd left it, she stood in the living room and breathed in much needed air.

Something had just happened between her and Jason that she couldn't explain. It was unlike her to be so open, and unlike him to wait so long before he retreated. Things were starting to change.

Bringing the bag with her into the kitchen where the men were gathered around, she sifted through it until she remembered that she'd given the packages for the two bodyguards to Sonny. Spotting them on the counter, she hustled over and picked up two identically wrapped boxes with decorative ribbon.

"I baked brownies. Here you go, Francis," she said softly, handing him the package.

"Thanks." Francis beamed, tearing into the paper. Stopping long enough to catch her eye, he smiled down at her. "You can call me Frankie though, everyone else does."

Elizabeth looked at him skeptically. "That's not true. I've heard Sonny call you Francis a number of times."

Francis shrugged and bit down on one of the decadent chocolate brownies. "Well, Sonny, and my mother are the only ones that do, I guess."

"Oh, that's a shame. I really like the name Francis and it suits you very well. Would you mind if I called you Francis too?"

"You can call me whatever you like." Francis blushed, continuing to scarf down the dessert.

Smiling sweetly Liz said, "well, then, I think it's only fair you call me Elizabeth, Francis."

If possible Francis' face went even redder and he nearly choked on the whole brownie he'd placed in his mouth.

"Sure," he finally managed to say after he'd swallowed.

Johnny tried really hard to hide his grin, but when he caught Sonny's eye he couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped, nor could the other man.

"Here, Johnny, I made you some too. Sonny told me how much you love chocolate."

"That, I do... well almost as much as Jason." Johnny gestured towards Jason who sat in the corner brooding.

A hush fell over the room as unbeknownst to Johnny a sore subject was brought up.

Noticing the quiet Johnny looked around the room. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," Sonny chuckled, moving over toward the window and looking out trying to contain himself.

Elizabeth felt relief. She was thankful these men were here to relieve the tension and give her a reason to laugh.

Slapping on a suspicious smile, Johnny silently questioned Sonny whose laugh promised he'd tell him the truth later.

"Thank you so much, Miss Webber. That was incredibly generous of you."

"It's just brownies," she said softly, trying to catch Jason's eye.

"Cab's here," Sonny informed Elizabeth, approaching her.

He moved toward her slowly, concerned that she was now afraid of him and if he didn't say something then, he'd never see her again.

"May I talk to you a moment before you go?" he asked quietly, gesturing to the porch.

Elizabeth nodded and stepped out the door. "Bye, Johnny. Francis. Jason, I'll see you soon," she said, looking directly at Jason and was satisfied to find a small smile on his lips.

"Goodbye, Miss Webber, it was nice seeing you again. Come on, Frankie, we'd better get going, we have things to take care of," Johnny said from his place in the kitchen.

Francis waved to her while they passed and headed toward the church. "Bye, Elizabeth."

"Bye," she said quietly and then turned to Sonny. "Is everything all right?"

"That's what I was going to ask you," he said affectionately.

"Sonny, I know you're worried that you scared me and that's really not what was happening. Do you ever have bad memories that just come out at the wrong time?"

Sonny leaned against the porch rail and rolled the question around in his head. There were definitely times when he thought about Brenda and all the drama that led up to the accident. "Yes," he answered.

She came beside him and brushed his arm with her hand, a supportive gesture. "Then you understand that's all that happened today. If I were scared of you, I wouldn't be standing here with you now. Okay?"

He nodded his head and rested his hand over hers. "I would never do anything that could hurt you."

"I know that," she said, hiking her backpack over her shoulder. "I have to go. I'll be by soon," she reassured him and then made her way to the taxi.

* * *

Moving into the living room, Jason plopped down on the couch. Shifting uncomfortably, he stood and flipped the cushion. Underneath was a small sketch pad that could only belong to Elizabeth. All her secrets were locked up inside. It was like discovering the key to a door you're not supposed to open, but is right there and it's almost too tempting not to peak. 

Pandora's box.

* * *

"Did you notice how weird Sonny was acting? Even Jason was on edge," Johnny said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. He needed a shave, he realized, when his hand swept across some rough stubble. 

"How the hell could you tell that? The man doesn't even speak!" Francis questioned.

"There was something different about him. Edward Quartermain is a powerful man and he usually gets what he wants."

"So?"

"So, Jason's worried. Even if he doesn't say a single word, from what Sonny says Elizabeth means something to him. In fact, I think we might have interrupted something when we stumbled over to them like a couple of ingrates, but that's really beside the point. She means something to Sonny, too. She's like a little sister to him or something and that's why we're going to do everything we can to make sure nothing happens to her."

"She's a sweet kid."

"That's right, she is and she doesn't need to be touched by our bloody hands. If we can prevent this filthy world we live in from touching her, we're damn well going to do it. You got me?"

"I got you. She makes good brownies, too."

"True," Johnny said softly, turning to face his friend. "Who the hell taught you to eat anyway? You've got chocolate all over your face! Don't you ever look in the mirror?"

"Well, excuse me, Mr. Vanity! I don't spend half my life making sure every hair on my head is perfect. So what're you up to now, two bottles of hair spray a day?"

"I'm not asking you to try to reach perfection, but for God's sake, man, have a little dignity. I realize we can't all look like me, but it wouldn't hurt you to try, would it?"

"Just shut up. At least I'm better looking than Max," Francis said, entering the church.

"That's all a matter of opinion. I do quite well with the ladies, I'll have you know," Max joked, stepping up to them. "What the hell took you so long? I've been here nearly an hour," he said annoyed, checking his watch to be sure.

"Elizabeth made us brownies," Francis exclaimed, holding up his near-empty container.

"Who's Elizabeth and why is she giving him sweets?" Max asked confused, ignoring the goofy grin on Francis' face.

Johnny laughed. "She'd a friend of Sonny's. I think Frankie has a bit of a crush."

"I have a crush? You should have seen Johnny falling all over himself when Elizabeth gave him the brownies. _"Here Johnny, Sonny told me how much you love chocolate_,"" Francis said in his best Elizabeth impersonation. Clasping his hands together and batting his eyelashes, he lowered his voice, pretending to be Johnny. ""_Oh, thank you, Miss Webber! That was incredibly generous of you_!" Barf." Francis laughed hard.

"Oh right, and who's the one that wants to be called Francis by the little lady? That certainly wasn't me."

"Shut up!"

Max stepped between them.

"Would you two quit bickering and get down to business? Now, what is this undercover assignment you have for me?"

Johnny and Francis exchanged amused glances.

"Here, Max. Change into this," Johnny said, handing the pudgy bodyguard a black robe, a collarless shirt and dark dress pants.

"I don't get it," Max said, taking the garments and studying them. "What am I supposed to be?"

"A priest," they replied in unison.

"A what?! No way. No fucking way! My mother would kill me if she found out I was doing this. We're Catholic for Christ sakes! This has to be a sin or something. Priests are close to God and shit. You don't mess with that."

"Just put it on," Johnny told him. "I'm sure you and God can work something out later. In the meantime, you're going to put that on and you're going to do your damnedest to act like a priest or you're going to need to find a sanctuary so I don't find you and kill you," Johnny said gruffly, ignoring Francis' muddled laughter behind them.

Looking at the clothes in disgust, Max turned up his nose. "How the hell did I get stuck doing this shit?"

"You better work on your language. I don't think it's appropriate for priests to speak that way," Francis chuckled.

"Shut your trap, wise-ass," Max barked, turning his attention back to Johnny.

"Listen, Max, Sonny needs a guard, but he doesn't want Elizabeth to know about it. He thinks it might scare her. So it's your job to watch out for her and to blend in," Johnny explained.

Rolling his eyes, he looked over the costume once more, knowing if Sonny wanted it done that meant there was some serious trouble brewing. "Okay, okay, I get it, but why me?"

"Elizabeth has already had the pleasure of my company, and she's met Francis--although I'm sure she would like to pretend she hasn't-"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Francis questioned, brows raised.

"Relax, Frankie, I was just joking. Once she meets Max here, she'll think you're a prize."

"Hey!" Max protested.

"Look, just watch out for the girl and try not to act--well, like you. Think you can handle that or do I have to put Greg on it?"

"No, I can do it. You can trust me, Johnny. I won't let you down," Max told him, walking down the aisle toward the rectory.


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Remembering Tibet  
Author: Kat/Yuppiekat  
Rating: R  
Disclaimer: I don't own...well, anything pertaining to GH.  
Summary: This is an Alternate Universe fic. (And, possibly, a strange one at that.)-- The past haunts Jason and Elizabeth. In order to heal, they'll need each other.  
Notes: There are a few things that you should know about this fic... This fic was started (I believe) in 2002, but time constraints and frustration about the show stalled the writing of this fic. I am in the middle of re-reading and revising all the chapters. I'm not sure how often I can post. I wish I had more time to work on this, but you'll have to settle for a sporadic posting schedule. The character of Lucky is, well, very out of character. I'm aware of that. There is also a lot of head hopping in this fic... Um, sorry about that.

* * *

The streak of red across the blank white canvas just didn't seem right. It wasn't the right color. It wasn't the crimson sky from the night before and certainly not the correct red of the glass her grandfather had once given her. 

The vision of red, from the night before, had woken Elizabeth up early. She'd spent almost the entire morning mixing and blending to coax out the vibrant color from her paints. Tubes of red lined her small table; rose; alizarin crimson; Indian red; cadmium red light; cadmium red dark, American vermillion and any other red under the sun. Oils, acrylics and water colors had all been put to the test and yet she still couldn't find that exact red she'd remembered.

Maybe it was all in vain anyway. Maybe she would never find the exact red she was seeking. But painting helped her not to think. And that's what she wanted. It was too difficult to dredge up how Jason had been there for her, listening with an attentive ear and caring eyes. It was easier to paint and pretend it never happened. She didn't have to overanalyze what it meant. Because, really, what _did_ it mean?

It was just so frustrating!

So, okay, she was trying to forget about it, but doing a horrible job of it. It was still there, in the back of her mind. And if she closed her eyes tightly, the warm whisper of his hand on her shoulder, and the feel of the rough texture of his skin, when she brushed his hand with her own, was sinuously pressing itself into every thought.

It was bad.

She had studied her palm this morning, thinking about the differences in their hands. How they both used them in their craft, but in such different ways. And when she reached for her coffee cup, standing on her tip-toes, she'd imagined what it would feel like to have Jason standing behind her, reaching with his large, masculine fingers and producing for her the mug that was just out of reach.

Okay, so maybe bad was putting it lightly. It was so beyond! She was going downright crazy! Hallucinating, even!

Once again, Elizabeth forced herself to concentrate on her painting. Not that she would call it a painting. It was just turning out to be one giant blur. And wasn't that the story of her life?

Her oversized shirt was covered in blots of color, some red from this morning and other colors from times before. But, looking down at herself, she couldn't help think she looked a little like she'd been in a battle and lost the war. It did look a lot like blood and she cringed at the thought.

Tired of not getting anything right, Elizabeth covered the canvas in white paint. Starting fresh, she blended together some flesh tones and, even before she put brush to canvas, she knew whose face was going to emerge. Satisfied with the square chin and high cheekbones, she doused her brush and cleaned it. Picking up the blue, she began searching for the right colors.

Jason's eyes, she thought, smiling, were a mixture of Prussian blue, azure, cobalt and just a touch of cerulean. Opening the tube of cobalt blue, to her horror, she discovered the contents had dried up.

"Great, just great," she mumbled to herself checking the other colors.

Without that color she knew she couldn't make his eyes the exact right shade. The only thing to do was to go to the dreaded mall and pick up some more paint. Checking her watch, Elizabeth's eyes widened. She hastily dipped her brush into a can of turpentine.

Not only was the lack of blue paint halting her progress, it was also making her late! She had ten minutes before she had to meet her grandmother for their ritual lunch at the hospital. Her work of art would have to wait until later.

Slipping her coat over her tattered painter's shirt, Elizabeth grabbed her purse and keys and ran out the door.

* * *

Audrey Hardy was considered a refined woman. She was high-class, sophisticated and a respected member of the community. After losing her husband, Audrey appeared to be a lonely woman and so when Elizabeth came to stay with her at fifteen, there was joy in her life once again. 

However, Elizabeth had not always been the woman she was now… There had been a lot of late nights she'd made her grandmother sick with worry.

After Elizabeth "tamed," they developed a bond unbreakable by distance. So when her grand-baby finally moved out, it was with a promise of lunch every week. It was a way to keep in touch and stay involved in each other's lives. She constantly doted on her young granddaughter and somewhere along the way she'd failed to realize she wasn't a child anymore.

Bounding through the emergency room doors, Elizabeth nearly took out an orderly and a pregnant woman when she whizzed by them.

"I'm sorry!" she called over her shoulder and slowed her pace.

Spotting the gray-haired, exceptionally dressed, and all-around-presentable woman waiting by the vending machines, Elizabeth called to her grandmother, "Gram! I-I'm...so so-orry I'm...late," she managed to breathe out, winded from her sprint over.

"That's alright, darling." Audrey smiled and hugged the petite brunette she'd helped raise.

"Have you been waiting long?" Elizabeth finally asked when she got her heart rate back to normal.

"Not too long," she said pulling back and then studying her. "Elizabeth, dear, what have you been doing with yourself? Look at you. You're a mess!" she laughed good-naturedly, while studying her. "And, is that blood?" Audrey's eyes widened, in fear. Pulling on Elizabeth's shirt, she studied the stains.

Elizabeth looked down at her wrinkled clothes that were covered in paint and charcoal. "What? Oh, no. No, Gram, that's just paint."

"You wear clothes that are stained? Do you need some money to purchase some new outfits? I'd be more than happy-"

"No, no Gram! It's okay, really. I like what I'm wearing; it's comfortable." Elizabeth's face flushed. In her haste to leave the studio and get to the hospital on time, she'd forgotten how much of a stickler her grandmother was for wearing proper attire to lunch.

Despite their bond, there was very little the pair agreed on. Elizabeth's art was one on a long list of things Audrey didn't approve.

Audrey shrugged her shoulders and took Elizabeth's arm in her own, guiding her toward the hospital cafeteria.

"If that's what you like, then who am I to argue. It has been a while since I studied the market on fashion for young girls."

Young girls? Unfortunately in her grandmother's mind, Elizabeth would always be fifteen and irresponsible.

"I know I'm not very stylish wearing what I have on, but I think better and paint better in these."

"Well, yes, dear, I'm sure you do," Audrey spoke softly, petting Elizabeth's forearm.

Slapping on a fake smile, Elizabeth continued to walk beside her grandmother and tried to ignore her patronizing tone.

In line for food, Elizabeth piled her plate high with a cheeseburger and fries, a tall milkshake and an apple. "I'm starving!"

Looking at the Elizabeth's plate and then back to her own, Audrey very dryly said, "I can see that."

Audrey paid and followed Elizabeth into the hub of the cafeteria where she found a seat for two. She placed a napkin in her lap like they were at the Four Seasons and Elizabeth fought hard to hide her grin.

Picking at the pile of fries on her plate, Elizabeth was eating before her grandmother had even picked up her fork.

Audrey pretended not to notice the manners of her granddaughter and jabbed a ripe tomato from her salad. They ate in silence, occasionally discussing distant relations or some mishap in the department her grandmother worked.

Sipping from a bottle of water, Audrey stopped and watched Elizabeth chew her food.

Finally sighing, she said, "I don't know how you are still so thin, eating the way you do."

"I skipped breakfast this morning," Elizabeth said, in her own defense.

"Dear, you shouldn't do that. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. It gives you energy and gets you motivated for the day."

"I'll try to remember that," Elizabeth said and then sunk her teeth into the juicy burger.

"I spoke to Steven the other day," Audrey said, then waited to gage Elizabeth's reaction.

Elizabeth noticeably stiffened and stopped eating. She put her burger down and took a long sip of her milkshake. Just once she'd like to have gotten through a meal without discussing her intelligent, highly-trained brother, who was not only a doctor, but was comparable to God, in her grandmother's eyes. Elizabeth had always been a disappointment, especially when she chose to pursue art in school, branching off from the family business and turning her back on medicine.

"Oh?"

"He's going overseas to help the sick children in Africa. Isn't that commendable?"

Elizabeth nodded. It would be commendable if Steven didn't have ulterior motives. One being the big bonus daddy dearest would be giving him. No one in the Webber clan did things just for the sake of doing them. There was always another reason behind it. Mostly it was to make her father look good at board meetings and on the nightly news.

Audrey took the napkin from her lap and folded it on the table. "Elizabeth, have you given any consideration to your father's offer?"

"Gram, I know this may be hard for you to understand but I like art." Elizabeth pushed the remainder of her food away. Suddenly she wasn't so hungry.

"Elizabeth, please be reasonable."

"Gram, please. I like painting and being on my own. I don't need his help and I'm not going to medical school _or_ going to work for him."

"You like working at that diner?"

Elizabeth tried to tame her anger. "It pays the bills," she said, controlling her voice.

"Surely there's a better-"

"Gram," Elizabeth said, cutting off her grandmother. Pushing her seat away from the table, Elizabeth stood. "Lunch was great, but I think I'd better be going."

In a gesture of kindness Elizabeth wasn't used to, Audrey placed her hand on Elizabeth's face. Her eyes got a little blurry and she leaned to give her grandmother a hug.

Pulling away, Audrey looked uncomfortable. Physical affection wasn't something they did often. Heck, plain old affection wasn't something that happened much between them. Elizabeth loved her grandmother, she did, but there were times when she felt like a stranger. They didn't always "get" each other. Audrey didn't accept many of the choices Elizabeth made and feelings of inadequacy started the day she moved to Port Charles. And that hurt. But she'd learned to swallow her pain and take what she could, what was offered.

"You've got something all over your face," Audrey pressed, pulling out a handkerchief from her purse and dabbing it on her tongue. Bringing the cloth against her granddaughter's face, Elizabeth recoiled.

"Gram, I'm an adult, I don't need you to wipe my face," Elizabeth said disgusted, grabbing a napkin and rubbing her cheek, "and especially not with your spit," she murmured. "Is it gone?" she asked after scrubbing hard with the rough serviette.

"Yes." She sighed. "I'll see you next week?"

"I'll be here." Elizabeth did her best to smile genuinely but faltered. Eyes to the ground, she began to walk away.

"Wonderful. Oh, and Elizabeth?"

"Yeah, Gram?" she asked, turning around with renewed hope.

"Try not to be late."

"Yes Gram," Elizabeth said, defeated.

When was she going to learn that no good ever came out of these lunches?

* * *

The mall. 

Not a place Elizabeth found herself too often, but after the small paint store near her studio closed down a few months ago, the mall was the only source for paint. The markups were higher and the quality was lacking, but the chain store in the mall was always fully stocked.

Walking over the threshold, blocking out the easy rock that droned from the intercoms, Elizabeth made her way to Art World. The chain was all about high fashion. It was like having some weird amalgamation of Andy Warhol pop art and Christian Dior couture. Like some model stepped off the runway, in her wacky make up and odd, big hair, freaky pointy shoes and geometric halter top and jumped onto a canvas—several times. The format was modern and chic and the worst excuse for being rude she'd seen. The cashiers were snooty, their clothing tacky and the displayed paintings were even tackier. The store always felt so sterile, lacking anything remotely inspiring. It didn't smell like paint, or the musky scent of charcoals or the earthy smell of clay. It didn't smell like anything, except maybe bleach.

Elizabeth strolled the floor-to-ceiling aisles, looking for one small tube of cobalt blue oil paint.

Bingo!

Picking up the tube that had a price tag much higher than it's actual worth, Elizabeth groaned. Shuffling her feet from side to side, she tried to ignore the blatant stares of the stock-boy--of course he probably preferred to call himself "replenisher of artistic materials."

Stepping up to her, he looked at the paint in her hand. "Ah, excellent choice."

"I thought so," she said, biting her lip to stop herself from issuing a rather un-charming insult.

"Paint is a magnificent thing, isn't it?"

Rolling her eyes too quick for stock-boy to catch on, Elizabeth agreed. "Sure."

"You can do a lot with paint. Most people limit themselves to canvases, paper, that sort of thing. I myself am into body art," stock-boy told her, removing his sunglasses to reveal red-rimmed eyes. Apparently paint wasn't the only thing that fascinated the guy.

"Is that so?" Elizabeth asked, making her way to the front of the store and distancing herself from the cannabis kid; replacing art supplies and rolling weed, all in a day's work. By day: an art store attendant, by night: a body-painting expert and smoker of pot.

"Sure," he drawled, replacing the glasses. "I could show you sometime."

"That's a _really_ great offer, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to pass. Sensitive skin."

"Some other time then. Just look me up." Grabbing a broom, he made his way down the aisle again.

"Right, will do." Elizabeth smiled, moving towards the cashier. "Maybe when hell freezes over," she mumbled under her breath, placing her purchases on the counter, grabbing a few brushes to add to the paint she was about to buy.

Elizabeth smiled at the clerk and received a blank gaze in return. The woman had muddy green eyes, the color of an olive after being soaked in a martini. Those wonderfully intoxicated eyes were staring somewhere over Elizabeth's forehead and instinctively Elizabeth put her hands on her head. She felt her hair, untamed and, although she couldn't see it, she knew it was a mess.

"It's windy out," she offered, handing the woman some crisp bills and still not relieving the dormant expression from the other woman's face.

Packing the supplies in a bag that was brightly colored with geometric shapes and the words "Art World" slashed on front, the woman finally came out of her haze.

"Quite," she said and handed Elizabeth her change and the bag and then turned and picked up a magazine.

Elizabeth took the bag and made her way out of the store as quickly as she could. Although it had never been proven that rudeness was contagious, she certainly didn't want to test the theory.

Against her better judgment, Elizabeth walked down to the big department store at the end of the mall. They sold everything there and there was also a small make up booth that she wanted to check out. Going straight to the wall-length mirror near the cosmetics department, Elizabeth dropped her bag and looked at herself.

Her hair had seen better days. Low cash reserves and little time left her to skimp on cuts and shampoos. It had been a long time, too long, since she allowed herself to be pampered and after her purchase of paint and a few modest brushes, it looked like the pampering would have to wait a little while longer. She absolutely refused to take money from her father and tore up any checks he ever bothered to send.

She felt frozen. Studying herself in the mirror, the sights and sounds in the surrounding area eluded her and at best she made out the chatter of a few rich socialites, discussing the finer techniques of painting one's nails or the benefits of a thinly sliced cucumber over the eyes. Elizabeth snorted and then, embarrassed, covered her nose and looked up. Thankful no one paid her any notice anyway, she moved away taking her bag of art supplies with her.

Entering the scents and fragrances department, she was assaulted by a strong spray of perfume.

The salesclerk looked at her with a too-bright, white-toothed smile. "Perfume?"

"No, thanks," Elizabeth said closing her mouth and tasting the floral bitterness of the spray.

Her eyes got teary, her nostrils flared and before she had time to stop it, she sneezed.

The woman watched in disgust while Elizabeth rubbed her nose and closed her eyes.

"Would you like a tissue?" she asked in a high-class yet distinctly Southern accent.

"Yes, please," Elizabeth said, still tasting the tang of the perfume on her tongue.

"Here, that should help y'all," the Southern pixy drawled.

Elizabeth took the tissue and dabbed at her nose and eyes until they were raw and itchy. "Oow. Is-is there something on this?"

The saleswoman smiled at the younger girl. "It's scented with concentrated rose petals."

"Oh," Elizabeth groaned, dropping the used Kleenex into the closest garbage can and walking away without a look back.

A little further along, she came across a display of lipsticks on sale. Picking up a few, she found a shade that was perfect for her. It was _the_ red. The very red she'd spent almost the entire morning trying to emulate and all along it was here at the mall, waiting for her to purchase it. Who would have thought? Checking the price at the bottom of the tube, she flinched. It cost way more than she could afford, but the color was…perfect.

Bending down she unlaced her shoe and took out the twenty dollar bill she kept stuffed in the insoles of her warn tennis shoes for emergencies. With a heavy sigh, she studied the lipstick, then the limp bill. It was practically the only money she had until she cashed her paycheck, but it was worth it.

Stepping up to the register Elizabeth watched the prim sales women conversing. They were all well put together and here she was in her oversized khakis and worn painting shirt. Pulling her jacket closed, she tried to conceal her outfit.

With barely a glance at Elizabeth the clerk rang up her purchase and then turned back to her colleagues.

Trying to maintain her composure, Elizabeth walked away, no longer feeling so good about the lipstick. What did it matter anyway? It wasn't likely that she would ever wear it out. Most likely, it would wind up being put to use on one of her paintings rather than used on her own lips. She'd never wanted to be the Malibu Barbie type, usually Trisha filled that role, but lately she felt she was lacking something.

She tried to convince herself that it had nothing to do with Jason, but in her heart she knew that was a lie. For once, she wanted to stand out in a crowd; wanted to be the one noticed, the one that shone brightly and no matter how hard you tried you couldn't take your eyes off of her. But she knew she wasn't that type of woman; that Jason--or any other man--would never see her as the princess when there were so many other choices available. But still, she hoped.

Approaching the full-length mirror just about at the exit to the department store, Elizabeth pulled out the lipstick and studied it. Breaking the seal, she took a chance and pressed it to her mouth, smearing the waxy substance over perfectly shaped lips. Staring back at herself, she almost wanted to laugh. The color brought her face to life and made her skin pale in comparison, but she felt confident. She felt good. Then she laughed. She actually laughed and didn't try to hide it.

Her throat felt dry from laughing, but it felt good. Stepping out of the store she headed to the food court to get a drink.

* * *

From the food court, Paul Callahan watched Elizabeth smacking her lips together, rubbing in the brightest shade of red lipstick he'd ever seen. Dammit, the woman made him ache and he hated her for it. He hated that she teased him on purpose and played the sweet, innocent role for the rest of the population. He couldn't stand looking at her, because when he did, his groin burned and he knew there would never come a time when she would help him relieve his frustrations. 

"Hey, Callahan, look there's Lizzie Webber. You still got a hard-on for her?"

Paul turned to look in the direction his friend's were pointing. He watched her sipping from the thin straw and leaving a red imprint on the plastic.

"Yeah, but I got tired of wasting my time," he said, turning back around to face his buddies without looking too dejected.

"Don't be a pussy, go talk to her."

"Nah, maybe later. I'm giving her some space," he said casually. One thing he'd learned at prep school was to never put all his cards on the table.

The tall, husky linebacker, Brandon, scoffed. "Fuck space! The only space you need to worry about is how close you can get to her panties."

"Hey, you don't think she tried? She wants me, but I didn't want her to get all clingy. You know how girls get after you nail 'em. All of a sudden they're like your shadow. Who needs that?"

"Sure, Callahan," Paul's buddies snickered

"You don't believe me?" he asked, watching his friends confirm their doubt. "Watch and learn."

* * *

Elizabeth, spotting Paul strutting over to her, threw away the cherry soda she'd been drinking and stepped into Harry's House of Hats, ducking behind a tall stack of fedora's. Grabbing a hat off the rack and placing it on her head, she pulled it down low to conceal her face. She looked around tentatively before she slowly stood. 

"Doing a little shopping, Lizzie?" Paul asked, leaning his hip into the counter right in front of her.

Jumping back a little, she grabbed her chest. She could feel her heart racing from the unpleasant surprise. "Something like that, yeah."

Paul looked like every jock to have thrown around the old pig skin, every double-dipping rich kid who had a maid and butler and not enough class to fill out his stylish three-piece Armani suit. He settled for the roughed-up, letterman jacket and the harsh dialect of his clique. They were pretty frat boys with too much time on their hands and not enough brains to do their own work. They were the envy of the school and their cocky asses knew it. He was just like every other dumb yuppie fuck that Elizabeth had grown up with and wanted nothing to do with.

Stepping around the counter, Paul towered over Elizabeth with a deep smirk embedded on his deceptively angelic face. "Listen, I know you said we worked better as friends, but I was thinking maybe we could give it another shot."

"Oh, well," she began, desperately seeking the right words.

Trying to gain a little distance she side-stepped him and walked over to a bin of winter toques. Staring into the bin, she picked up a gray hat with ear flaps and twirled it around her tiny hand.

"See, the thing is...," she began, looking out at the mall.

She looked for anything to save her. She needed something…something to give her time, an excuse, anything to get away from him.

She hadn't known Paul was bad news the first time she agreed to go out with him. He'd seemed sweet and decent the second time, until his hands began to multiply and she had to slap him to get him to quit.

Since then she always had an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach whenever he was around. Now all she wanted was to get away.

* * *

Jason hated the mall more than anything. It was a commercial wasteland that he had no interest in, but Sonny had come down with a cold and couldn't get out of bed that morning. So Jason was stuck doing errands for him. 

Reading the list over, he began to head over to the department store just past the food court when something caught his eye.

His heart nearly stopped when he caught sight of Elizabeth Webber wearing a black fedora pulled over her eyes and blazing red lipstick on her lips. The sight should have been funny especially with her coat half off her shoulders and her stained painting shirt sticking out. Her hair was a wild tangle of curls slipping down her neck to rest on her shoulders. Her face was in shadow but to Jason, she lit up the room. It should have been funny, but there was no humor in the pit of Jason's stomach.

She looked beautiful.

He tried to look away; to continue down the mall to pick up the things Sonny needed, but he seemed to be rooted in place. He couldn't move even if he wanted to. She seemed agitated and he didn't like the purse of her lips, like she was about to break down and cry.

He should have walked away.

Before he had time to get his feet to move, she spotted him.

Magnetically drawn to him, Elizabeth picked Jason out of the crowd of mall dwellers. Their eyes locked. Blue against blue and tension so thick it was like a force field draining the air of oxygen.

She practically screamed his name. "Jason!"

She waved him over, grabbing onto his arm and tugging him against her. She snuggled up to his side and raised herself on her tip-toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

His cheek blazed with heat and he knew even if no one else could ever see it, his skin would always be brandished with her mark. His pulse pumped through his ears blurring the sounds around him.

Jason looked down at her, stunned, but made no move to get out of her grasp. He watched her like he was on the opposing side of a two-way mirror, trying to figure out what her ammo was. There was relief etched on her features and he puffed out his chest in satisfaction.

"Who's this?" Paul asked rudely, turning his nose up at the blonde.

"Oh, I'm sorry. This is Jason Morgan. He's my... My boyfriend!"

Jason's eyes widened.

Elizabeth tilted her head to the side, looking Jason in the eyes and pleading with him.

He obliged her silent request and smiled. Hell, he liked the sound of the word _boyfriend_ coming from her mouth. It was like her voice caressed it, held it tight and then slowly let the word evaporate.

"Jason, this is Paul Callahan," she said, her voice trained to remain the simple, sweet tone she always used, even though he could feel her fingers shake inside his hand.

One thing was clear. Elizabeth Webber was a great actress. Feeling the need to put her at ease, Jason rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand. The touch was light, but even he couldn't deny the tenderness he washed over her skin.

"Hey, what's up, man?"

Paul offered his hand, but Jason, still stunned and confused, just stared at the other man with unblinking eyes.

"Okay then," Paul said annoyed, rolling his eyes and trying his best to remain polite. "So, how do you know Lizzie?"

Lizzie? Jason turned his attention back to Elizabeth looking for some sort of support, some indication of what his role should be.

Elizabeth, sensing his unease, did her best to calm the situation.

"Trisha introduced us."

"That seems odd. I always thought she kept any men she meets for herself. So, you're a friend of Trisha's, too?"

Jason, being that he didn't speak, simply nodded.

"Not too friendly, is he?" Paul asked, taking another step away.

In a move that stunned them both, Jason lightly touched the brim of the hat she wore and tilted it so he could look into her eyes better. The rush of heat that went through her was not natural and it burned deep and hot.

And she liked it.

"Jason's just shy. Aren't you, baby?"

_Baby?!_ Elizabeth groaned inwardly. She was beginning to sound more and more like Trisha everyday. That could not be a good thing. The next thing she knew, she'd be taking home stray men.

Her cheeks began to redden at the thought of taking the very real, very close in proximity, Jason Morgan home.

"Listen, Webber, I'd better get going. The guys are over there waiting for me," Paul said uncomfortably and pointed to the two guys behind him in stitches.

Jason's eyes were cold and seeking while he stared after Paul Callahan. It was decided. He did not like the punk. The guy was too slick for his own good.

* * *

When Paul got back to his two goof-ball friends they were doubled over with laughter. 

"Real slick, Paul! I can see how badly she wants you, especially with her arms wrapped around another guy. Guess she needs space after all. From you!"

Paul's lips curled into a nasty snarl. "She's a tease anyway. There's only one thing Lizzie Webber is good for."

"Too bad she dumped you; she's so hot," Brandon mused.

"Yeah," Paul snickered and his eyes flamed. "Too bad."

* * *

Still holding Jason's hand, Elizabeth started to walk out of the store. 

"Just play it cool," she whispered.

Stepping out from the counter, the graying salesman called after them, "Miss, the hat?"

"Oh, I forgot. Here you go," she said, reluctantly letting go of Jason's large, warm hand and handing the hat back to the salesclerk.

Patting her ruined hair, she tried to smooth out some of the knots. Jason took her hand away and tipped her chin so she was looking at him.

Elizabeth swallowed.

"Thank you for coming to my rescue. Well, more like playing along. There's just something about that guy that makes me uneasy and if you hadn't shown up, I probably would have been stuck talking to him. And now that he knows I have a boyfriend--or thinks I do, he'll leave me alone. At least, I hope he will. I hope you didn't mind me using you there."

He craned his neck and barely heard the bubble laugh that filled her lungs.

"You wouldn't believe the day I'm having! First, the guy at the art store offered to... well I'm not quite sure what he was offering, but there was paint and naked bodies involved. Then, the perfume lady at the department store tried to drown me with a bottle of perfume that cost more than a small family car, I'm sure. And then, just now, Paul... well you were here. I'm rambling again, aren't I?"

He simply nodded and continued to look down at her. There was a touch of laughter behind his blue eyes, but he didn't let it out.

"See, Paul, he's a little...aggressive. He's not my type, but I don't know how to tell him that. I try to be nice to him, but to tell you the truth he kind of creeps me out... which is why I'm so grateful you came along when you did!"

Jason nodded and smiled shyly at her.

Elizabeth's heart fluttered and her cheeks warmed. "I-I got lipstick on your cheek," she said innocently.

Jason swiped his hand over his face and smeared it even more.

"Here, let me," Elizabeth said quietly, looking up at him with large doe eyes.

It was impossible for him to resist. He tilted his head down so she could reach.

"It's new. The lipstick, I mean. I just bought it today. I wasn't sure if I would ever wear it, but...I-I'm sure now," she told him absently.

Elizabeth hated to be touched. At least, she thought she did.

For some people, Elizabeth included, being constantly ignored, neglected, forgotten about, or all of the above, leads a person to believe that they are unworthy of natural, everyday gestures and touches. After long enough, a person forgets how nice it feels just to hold hands or share a hug because they've gone so long without it, it feels distant. Maybe they begin to hate the feel of skin touching skin because it's been so long since anyone's touched them. Being touched leaves a bitter taste in their mouth; like it's a violation of their own private, invisible world. But slowly, Elizabeth was beginning to realize she liked to be touched and she didn't have to be invisible any longer. There were people in her life, Sonny and Jason, who seemed to care more than anyone else had in a long time.

Jason.

Jason made her want to be touched in ways she thought made her sick. She wanted to feel his strong hands on her and feel the difference in textures and revel in it. And she didn't just want him to touch her, she wanted to touch him back in a way she'd never been able to before.

She'd been with men in the past, a few tomcats who weren't worthy of her time, and she'd never had the urge to actually take comfort in their embrace. With Jason, she was starting to learn everything was different and new and freeing. She was learning she wanted to be touched.

When her fingers brushed his cheek she discovered, much to her surprise, that she wanted to kiss him. His mouth was pink and looked soft and luscious. She wondered, if she tilted her chin, let her tongue snake out to touch those lips…what they would taste like. She was sure they would be warm and pliant and that he would definitely know how to work his tongue so she forgot her own name. Shaking her head slightly, she snapped the thoughts out of her brain before she got carried away.

The thought of kissing him was a leftover display of gratitude, she decided. But still, there was something inside her that wished it was her lips over his skin instead of her fingers; something inside that wished he would touch her like she hadn't wanted to be touched in a long time.

So, okay, Elizabeth wasn't used to touching anyone so intimately and Jason didn't look like he was familiar with it either… And, for some reason, that warmed her through. There was something in those electric blue eyes, curtained by thick, black lashes that made it difficult for her to look away; made it hard for her to breathe too.

Then he was leaning in, leaning so close she could feel his hot breathe on her neck.

"Jason?" she questioned, her voice sounding shaky.

His mouth just barely brushed her ear, sending shockwave after shockwave of excitement through her. Bending further, his fingers tickled up her neck and grabbed the lapel of her coat pulling it up her shoulders.

He inhaled. Took a good clean breath and came up sputtering. Expecting to find her usual soft perfume, he was surprised to be overpowered by some fruity mixture he couldn't quite place.

Elizabeth's face flamed red. She took a step back and smelled her clothes, groaning audibly. "Oh, don't mind me. I had a little run-in with a trigger happy perfume-toting Southern woman. I probably stink."

She was rambling again. It seemed every time she was around Jason that was all she could do anymore.

The smell of him, completely male, was beginning to impair her judgment and she needed to leave if she was going to keep her pride intact. A few minutes longer and she would be shoving him into one of the changing stalls and doing things she'd only ever heard about through Trisha—whose extensive knowledge about sexual encounters topped the charts.

"I-I should go," Elizabeth told Jason, almost absently. "Thanks again."

Grabbing her packages, she strode past him and headed for the exit. She practically screamed at herself not to look back. Her willpower was drained by the time she hit the revolving door and she did manage to spare a glance back. Her eyes widened when she realized he hadn't moved.

And he was staring right at her.

* * *

Elizabeth's feet ached while she walked the last few steps into her studio, dropping her purse and keys on the small table and tossing her bag onto the couch before she dropped onto the second-hand sofa herself. 

She closed her eyes and could see Jason's face and the urge to paint hit her hard.

Finally, with a moment to herself, Elizabeth pulled out all her art supplies and slathered her pallet in great gobs of paint. Mixing the blues, she was finally satisfied and began to fill in the eyes. Stepping back, she frowned. It didn't seem quite right.

Fortunately for her, she had an entire notebook with drawings of the silent wonder. Picking up a bunch of books, she leafed through the pages.

To her horror, her small sketchbook was nowhere to be found.

"I can't believe I lost it! What the hell am I going to do now?" Elizabeth said to herself searching her studio for the missing book.

She had turned the small space upside down looking for it and came up empty.

"What did you lose?" Lucky asked walking through the door without knocking. He kicked some of the canvases that lay on the ground to clear a path to the couch where he proceeded to stretch out.

"Never mind. It doesn't matter now. It's probably gone forever." She sighed, throwing a pillow from the floor at him. "Next time knock before you barge in, Spence."

"Jeez, someone's in a bad mood. I really have to start keeping track of when you and Harper are PMSing. That way I can steer clear until you're back to normal."

He stood and threw the pillow back at her.

Elizabeth stomped over to him and gave him a hard shove. "Ugh! You are such a guy!"

"Why, thank you!" He laughed. "I'm meeting Trisha at Kelly's in half-an-hour, you wanna come?" He checked his watch, looking surprised. "Oh, make that five minutes. So, you in?"

Liz allowed herself a few minutes to stand still. She hadn't stopped all day because she was so busy working on her latest painting and studying for more tests. Kelly's did sound like a good idea and her stomach had been rumbling even before Lucky came by. Lunch with her grandmother had not gone over as planned and she never did get back to eating her meal.

"Sure, I guess."

"Great." He handed her a jacket and waited while she fetched her keys. "I'll just say we're late because I had to wait for you." He smiled and gave her a daring wink. Meeting her icy gaze he thought better of it. "Or maybe not."

"Hey, what's this?" he asked, peeking under the drop cloth she'd used to cover up the painting of Jason.

"That," she said playfully, "is none of your business. Let's go."

* * *

An hour later, three milkshakes, three burgers and a plate of fries shared between them, Lucky, Liz and Trisha sat in Kelly's listening to the juke box, stomachs full and feeling content. 

Elizabeth was looking off into space, trying to think of where she could have possibly dropped her sketch book. She'd been so many places. She just didn't see herself stumbling upon it anytime soon. Just today alone she'd gone to the hospital to have lunch with her Gram, gone to the art supply store to pick up one tube of cobalt blue oil paint, and done a little shopping at the mall.

"You're thinking about him, aren't you?" Trisha said, smirking when Elizabeth choked on her drink.

"Thinking about who?" Lucky budded in.

"I am not! Never mind, Spence. Harper's been hitting the tequila again."

Lucky moved his chair over to sit next to Trisha. "Harper," he sighed, putting his arm around her shoulder, "I've told you a million times there's no need to drink alone. All you have to do is give me a call and I'll be over in a flash."

"You're such a spaz, Spence. Now give me your history notes; I slept in again this morning."

"Oh my, God. He's here!" Elizabeth said in surprise, hiding inside one of the menu's left on the table.

"What? Who?"

Lucky jumped from his seat, turning every which way.

Trisha grabbed his arm and yanked him back down. "Ever heard of being subtle, Spence?"

Trisha peered at the man sitting at one of the stools next to the counter. Everything about him was hard muscle, with a flint of intimidation, making him stand out in a room filled with other patrons. It wasn't just his looks or the soft leather that molded to his skin, it was always his eyes. Eyes that drew you in even from across the room and could hold onto you until he was ready to let go.

"Now _that_ is something you'll never be, Lucky."

"Yeah, what's that?"

Cocking her head to the side, Trisha checked out some of Jason's finer qualities. "One _fine_ piece of ass! Am I right, Liz?" Trisha smirked, turning to her best friend who was reading the menu like it held the secrets to the Seven Wonders of the World.

"Liz?"

"What?" she asked, peeking out from a corner of the bent plastic menu. "Is he gone?"

"No, it looks like he's waiting for something. We should go talk to him."

"See, that would be considered a conversation and to have one of those with Jason, you either have to know sign language or do all the talking and that is just not something I'm up for right now."

"Well then you'd better _get_ ready because he's headed this way," Trisha said in a sing-song voice that made Elizabeth squirm.

Elizabeth moved her menu and peeked. "What?"

When Jason walked up to the table Elizabeth went back to her menu and tried to ignore him—the key word being _tried_. But how can you ignore six-feet of rippling muscle and mysterious blue eyes that seem to follow you everywhere you go?

Of course Trisha was more than happy to chat with Jason like they were old friends reuniting. "Jason! It is _so_ good to see you. How have you been? Just stopping by to get a bite to eat?"

Her questions kept coming and Jason watched her without so much as a nod in response. He leaned over and moved the menu so he could look at Liz.

She smiled up at him with the faint hint of embarrassment coating her cheeks red.

"Hey, you're the dude from the-" Before Lucky had the chance to continue his words were silenced when he felt a sharp kick to his shin. "Ow!" he whined, leaning down to rub it. "What'd you do that for?" He grimaced at Liz.

"The monastery, yeah that's right, Lucky," she said smiling though gritted teeth. "I told him about how you work at the monastery with Sonny and everything."

Jason's features remained unchanged. He placed a small sketch pad in front of her and turned to walk away.

Elizabeth eyed it and immediately recognized it as the one she had been missing.

Walking away, head bent, shoulders forward, and eyes to the ground, Jason barely heard Elizabeth get up and follow him out the door. He tied the bags of food to the back of the bike and turned around.

"Jason, wait!" she shouted when he mounted his motorcycle. "Thanks for returning this. Did I leave it at the house?"

Jason nodded and put the kick stand up on his bike, getting ready to leave.

Recalling the pictures inside, Elizabeth blanched. There were sketches of him. She knew for a fact. Oh God, she would just _die_ if he had seen them. With her luck he'd probably think she was stalking him and get a restraining order put on her. She'd vowed not to let him see anymore sketches of himself after that horrible night in the church when he caught her spying on him.

"I can explain..." she trailed off as she watched the look of annoyance pass his face. "Did you look at the sketches in here?" she prompted.

He shook his head and oddly enough that was all it took for her to believe him. He took a deep breath and looked at his watch.

"Did I do something? Are you mad?" Elizabeth asked, shifting from one foot to the other.

Jason looked at her and to her it seemed like he was looking through her. For a whole minute he continued to stare and then finally shook his head.

"You're lying," she huffed. "I can tell you're annoyed with me. Look, if it was about how I acted inside, I'm sorry. It's just that I was stressed and I didn't know how to talk to you. You haven't been the friendliest of people towards me, you know. I just... I guess I have no real excuse. And after what you did for me today I should be a lot nicer to you, but I'll be honest, I'm horrible at this. I don't understand you and I'm just so frustrated. You can't talk to me, you hardly ever acknowledge my presence and then today you do this completely nice thing for me and then walk away like it meant nothing. I don't get it."

She brushed her hair out of her face and took a good look at him. "Do I annoy you?"

Jason's eyes flickered wild blue. He turned to look at her.

What was that expression? The engine roared and she had to strain to talk over it. "Can you just turn that thing off and listen to me?"

Jason nearly laughed out loud. He killed the engine and turned his full attention toward her. Shaking his head, he tried to hide the amusement in his eyes.

"Then, what? What is it about me that bother's you? Is it because I'm messy and clumsy and talk too much?"

Jason looked at her with confusion. Was that really how she saw herself? She was nervous and maybe a little anxious; he could hear it in her voice. Did his opinion really matter to her that much? If the situation were reversed would he be the one on the brink of begging, wanting answers that she could never really answer. When he thought about it, he decided the answer would be yes. If she were the one acting like a total jerk, he would want to know why.

If only she could see herself the way he did. If only she knew that every time she was near, he had to fight the urge to take her in his arms and kiss her; that he fantasized about holding her so close, maybe while they danced…naked; that he dreamed about touching her soft skin as they skinny-dipped. It was too cold for that now, he knew, but the image was still clear in his mind. It was still the reason he couldn't let himself get closer to her; still the reason he was pissed-off and taking it out on everyone else. Didn't she know he was damned? That if he allowed her to get close, she would get burned. He couldn't let that happen to her, but it was so fucking tempting to want to feel.

Jason eyed her up and down, tried not to let himself be sucked in by her beauty.

Lust.

That's all he felt whenever he was around Elizabeth Webber the last few days. He wanted so badly to pick her up, throw her on his motorcycle and ride off somewhere. Once there, he'd pull her tightly against him, ravish her mouth until she begged for more and then...

The thoughts were too sinful to even enter his mind.

And it would be okay if his thoughts stopped there. If he only wanted her in a physical way, maybe he could forget her. But it was so much more than that.

He couldn't stand to look at her right now. Couldn't stand that her eyes were so soft and she was starting to look at him without fear. He knew it was more than lust he was beginning to feel and there was no way he was going to admit it, let alone indulge in it.

If only she knew it killed him that he would never be able to allow himself to be with her, to…love her.

The laughter was all but gone from his eyes when he looked up. His pupils overtook the blue of his eyes when he stared at her. Jason didn't move, didn't turn away, didn't shake his head, just looked her in the eye and it was all the explanation she would get.

Elizabeth's voice was small when she finally spoke again. "Are you going back home now?"

Jason nodded and started the engine.

"Can I… Can I come with you?"


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Remembering Tibet  
Author: Kat/Yuppiekat  
Rating: R  
Disclaimer: I don't own...well, anything pertaining to GH.  
Summary: This is an Alternate Universe fic. (And, possibly, a strange one at that.)-- The past haunts Jason and Elizabeth. In order to heal, they'll need each other.  
Notes: There are a few things that you should know about this fic... This fic was started (I believe) in 2002, but time constraints and frustration about the show stalled the writing of this fic. I am in the middle of re-reading and revising all the chapters. I'm not sure how often I can post. I wish I had more time to work on this, but you'll have to settle for a sporadic posting schedule. The character of Lucky is, well, very out of character. I'm aware of that. There is also a lot of head hopping in this fic... Um, sorry about that.

* * *

If it wasn't winter, Elizabeth was sure she would have heard crickets chirping. The world around her was _that_ silent. She swore she wasn't breathing and that her heart wasn't even beating, because she could hear nothing but silence. 

Jason--being Jason--just sort of stared at her with some look she couldn't quite grasp the meaning to.

Yep, she could hear the snow falling it was so freaking quiet!

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. "Jason?"

As if just remembering she was there, he finally nodded his head and handed her the helmet that normally sat unused on the back of his bike.

"Thanks," she mused not ill-naturedly.

Strapping on the black helmet, Elizabeth maneuvered her way onto the back of the bike, using Jason's outstretched arm to prop her up. She tried to ignore the wave of heat that blazed from her hand to the rest of her body when they touched. But that was like trying to ignore she was alive at all.

"Be glad you're tall," she grumbled. "Why don't they make stepladders for these things? I always thought they could just put something on these bikes to make it easier for the vertically-challenged people. Something could just flip out like the kick stand does. Then all you'd have to do is just step onto it. Then, voila! You're good to go! Of course, _you _don't have problems getting on, so...yeah, I'm just going to be quiet now."

Her face flushed. She really needed to learn how to control that pesky rambling thing she developed every time he was around.

Wrapping her arms around him, she loved the rush she got when he took his foot off the ground and the bike roared to life and wailed down the street. She closed her eyes and let the wind rush over her face. God, it felt good.

They were half-way to her studio when she realized he was taking her home. Taking in a deep breath, she braced herself for the rejection she would see in his eyes once they got there.

She still had a few minutes until they got to her studio and she made them count. Her arms tightened around Jason and she pressed her cheek against his neck, breathing in that masculine spicy smell of him.

The motorcycle rolled to a stop. Elizabeth gathered her pride and collected her sketchbook in her hands before dismounting the bike.

"You can come in if you want...for coffee." The moments the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. _Idiot!_ Oh God, why didn't she just say "_hey, want to go have sex?_" that would have been less obvious. Everyone in the free world knew that inviting someone up "for coffee" was just a lame excuse, didn't they? Hell, she didn't even _have_ any coffee in the studio! What was he thinking? And, oh man, did she just come off like a slut? Really, she hadn't meant it that way. She just...wanted to spend more time with him.

It was weird to admit that to herself. That she liked having Jason around and wanted to spend more time with him, but it was the honest truth.

Jason reluctantly shook his head and indicated the bag of food on the back of his bike.

"Oh, right. Well then, I guess this is goodnight. Thanks for the ride. I really like that bike." She smiled cheerfully, gathering up her pride and hoping her disappointment didn't bleed through the mask she wore.

Jason spared a glance her way, weakening his resolve to remain detached. Did she have any clue what she looked like? Her hair a wavy mess and her skin alive with color. Good lord, he was in trouble. He watched her open the door and start up the steps and when he couldn't see her any more, he finally let out his breath.

In the air, even after she'd walked the three flights of stairs and he saw the lights to her studio flicker on, there was still the soft essence of her perfume. Her smell lingered just like her image lingered in his mind at night when he tried restlessly to fall asleep.

He was a goner. Screwed with a capital S.

There was no use trying to deny his feelings anymore. He was falling for Elizabeth Webber. And at that moment, he needed to leave before he took her up on her offer of..._coffee._

Elizabeth heard the purr of the ignition and rushed to her window hoping to catch one last glimpse of Jason Morgan. She sighed while she watched him speed away; a blur of black leather sitting high on his Harley.

She was in over her head. What the hell was she doing propositioning a man she barely knew? Who the hell was she kidding? Any woman that looked at him would offer him more than..."_coffee" _at first glance. But she wasn't most women. She'd cleaned up her act. Hell, she was a downright prude these days!

Grabbing a brush from an old tin can, she stopped pacing and settled in front of a canvas. It looked like she was in for a long, rough night of painting.

Damn, Jason Morgan!

* * *

Sonny had never felt so sick in his entire life. The trickle of vapor from the humidifier on the ground was the only thing keeping his lungs from feeling like they'd been fused together with a vat of peanut butter. His ears were swimming in fluid, making everything sound garbled. His nose and eyes were runny and red and his skin felt clammy, but despite all of those things he wore a grin so large his dimples were the size of quarters. 

Hearing Jason's muted steps when he entered the room, Sonny sat up in bed.

Jason observed the tissues and antibiotics scattered on the desk, floor and night tables, and grimaced, pushing them aside.

Sonny cleared his throat and ran a tissue down his neck to mop up the sweat that had accumulated there.

"Elizabeth Webber's friend, Trisha, was it? She called looking for her. We had an interesting talk."

Jason scoffed and set the bag from Kelly's, containing soup for Sonny, on his bedside table.

Ignoring Jason's displeasure, Sonny continued, "I supposed you made sure she got home okay?"

Without even turning around, Jason nodded and left the bedroom, walking fast to drown out Sonny's soft laughter.

In his own room, Jason pulled out a travel book and began to read. Snapping the book shut after only a few sentences, he looked down at the cover. When the hell had he purchased a book on Italy? Biting the side of his cheek hard, he felt the slow ooze of metallic blood pool in his mouth. He knew sooner or later, he was not going to be able to fight his feelings for Elizabeth. Sooner or later, he was going to lead her to danger. Swallowing with disgust, he reminded himself that he was poison and didn't deserve the kind of happiness he might—would--find with Elizabeth Webber.

* * *

When Elizabeth woke up the next morning, she found that her ass hurt. Her right butt cheek to be more specific. Not just a little, insignificant, will-go-away-at-any-second kind of pain, but a holy-mother-of-pearl-someone-give-me-a-sedative-because-my-ass-feels-like-someone-fired-a-bullet-took-it-out-and-forgot-to-give me-the-memo, kind of pain. Sitting up very slowly, she leaned heavily on her left cheek and gouged around the cushions for the cause of her displeasure. And sure enough, where her right cheek had been moments ago, she lifted one tube of cobalt blue oil paint. Great, even in her sleep Jason was a pain in the ass! 

Throwing the tube on the small table, where the rest of her paints were, she stood slowly and stretched her arms over her head.

She could hear the phone ringing somewhere, but couldn't seem to find where the damn thing was. Today was going to be the day that she proved to Jason Morgan that she was not going to be easily ignored, but before that she'd have to answer the phone. Searching under a pile of laundry, she finally came up with the blue cordless.

"Hello?" Elizabeth grumbled into the receiver.

On the other line, the distinct squeal of Trisha Harper rang through Elizabeth's ear. "Is he there?"

Looking around, Elizabeth rubbed her eyes confused. "What? Who?"

"Jason! He went home with you last night, didn't he? So, was it good?"

Rolling her eyes, Elizabeth crossed the room and found her orange toothbrush. "I didn't sleep with Jason. He dropped me off and that was it."

"That's it? Come on, Liz. Just one itsy bitsy detail, please!"

"There are no details to give. Nothing happened!"

"Well, that's pretty uneventful considering you walked out on me and Lucky without a goodbye. I assumed you'd at least have a juicy sex story for me."

Holding the phone to her shoulder with her ear, she picked up the tube of toothpaste and discovered it was empty. "Sorry to disappoint," Elizabeth stated, distracted. She rummaged through drawers looking for a tube of toothpaste.

She really needed to go shopping. Just the thought of going back to the mall or any place like it anytime soon had her shuddering. "Hey, wait! When have I _ever_ had a juicy sex story? I would like to hear it myself actually."

Finding a sample packet of toothpaste from the last time she'd been to the dentist, Elizabeth loaded her brush and stuck it in her mouth, methodically cleaning her molars.

"Okay fine," Harper said, resigned, "so maybe you haven't tapped the market on juicy sex stories yet, but there's still time. And the way Jason was looking at you last night, I would say that time is coming soon, if you know what I mean."

Liz's eyes widened while she anticipated Trisha's next words.

"Oh, and did you see when he walked how his jeans bunched right at his-"

"I'm hanging up now!"

On the other end, Trisha laughed knowing she'd gotten the best of her. "Alright, love ya, babe."

"Yeah, love to torture me," Elizabeth snorted.

"Well, that too."

"Bye." Hanging up the phone, she set it down on the couch and stretched some more. She really needed to get a proper bed.

Tossing the toothbrush back into a cup near the sink, Elizabeth walked to a rack where her clothes hung and began to sift through them. Maybe it was time she got a juicy sex story of her own.

* * *

Three hours later, Elizabeth was spent and frustrated. She had no idea how exactly it had happened, but somewhere along the line she'd realized that wooing Jason wasn't exactly something she could do on her own. She needed help. And there was only one person that she could go to… 

That's why she found herself standing outside of Trisha Harper's dorm room, knocking like a woman possessed.

"Alright, alright! I'm coming already! You don't need to be such a ball-breaker, Spe—Liz!"

"Expecting someone else?" Elizabeth smirked.

"Uh, no. Why would you…" she fumbled, flustered. "You know, never mind. Come in."

Elizabeth took a step inside the dorm. It was a mess. And that was coming from someone that lived in organized chaos. "Love what you've done with the place, Harper," she commented, throwing herself onto her bed.

"It's home. So, what's up?" she said, pushing a stack of books out of her way and throwing herself onto her roommate's bed.

"Uh, well, I sorta… I need your help," she said mournfully.

"With what?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. This was not going to be easy. "You_ know_ what."

"Drawing a blank here, Lizzie-poo. I think you're going to have to spell this one out for me."

Elizabeth didn't miss the evil smile on Trisha's face. Oh, yeah, she _knew_ what this was all about. "Don't make me say it."

That smile just got wider. "Well, I'm clueless here, girl, so you better explain."

Okay, so maybe the dig about her cleaning abilities was going to cost her. She wasn't going to be getting off easy. She was going to have swallow her pride and lay it all out there, every sordid word. She took a deep breath. "I need your help with Jason. I can't get him out of my head and, okay, you were right I've been pining away since the moment I set eyes on him. Satisfied?"

"Very! Oh, yay!" She jumped from her roommate's bed onto the one Liz was occupying. "This is going to be _so_ much fun!"

"For who?" Elizabeth groaned. She was already regretting coming to Trisha for help. "Maybe this was a bad idea."

"No, no! This is going to be great. Super great, even! Oh, Liz, you will_ so_ not be sorry!"

"Sure," she said, tersely. "What do you have in mind?"

Trisha rubbed her hands together. It looked maniacal. "I think it's about time to get a little more…aggressive."

Elizabeth cringed. What had she gotten herself into? "I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

"Relax. It'll be easy. We just need a plan."

"What kind of plan?" Elizabeth watched her friend closely. She could see the wheels turning and she wasn't exactly sure she liked where this was going.

"A simple plan. A plan to get Jason to notice you. I mean, _really_ notice you. How do you feel about spandex?"

"Not going to happen," Elizabeth answered bluntly.

"Fine. Um…do you own any halter tops?" There was no humor in her voice.

"No." Liz was almost ready to bolt. But she had to give this a chance. Nothing else she had done seemed to make much impact on Jason. A woman of Trisha's considerable experience had to know what she was doing. Didn't she? "Trisha, I know you're trying to help, but how about something a little less…"

"Slutty?" she said, unfazed.

"Not the word I was going to use, but okay, sure. Can we just do something a little more…subtle?"

"Okay, fine. But you're still going to need to freshen up your wardrobe a little. I'll lend you something."

"Uh…"

"Relax. I'll find you one of my more conservative outfits."

Liz wasn't exactly sure that Trisha owned anything conservative. But it was best not to verbalize that. "Okay, what else?"

"Attitude."

"Attitude?"

"Yeah," she answered, emphatically. "You'll need to act a little less like _you_ and a little more like _me_."

"I'm not sure I'm entirely comfortable with this pl--"

"I'm not saying you have to burst through the doors and give the man a lap dance! Although…?"

"Absolutely not!" she said in horror.

"Fine. You just need to act a little more like a woman."

"Okay, should I be totally insulted?"

"I just mean that you have to use your feminine wiles."

"My what?"

Trisha's eyes glimmered against the harsh fluorescents. "You know, a little flip of the hair, a lick of the lips, a sashay of the hips…" she said, demonstrating. "Those kinds of things."

The thought of sashaying _anything_ in front of Jason made Elizabeth blush. "I don't think I can do any of those things."

Trisha sighed. "Elizabeth, please, just listen to me instead of telling me all the things you _can't_ do! I'm trying to help, but you're making it very difficult here. Just flirt with the man!"

"That's it? Just flirt?"

"Yes! Now I have class, but it's a good thing I'm such a kick-ass friend, because I'm willing to skip it for you."

Trisha had never really needed much incentive to skip.

"How very generous."

"I know, right? Okay, let's find you something to wear and then we'll work out the finer details. Jason Morgan's not going to know what hit him!"

Trisha's smile and enthusiasm was contagious.

Okay, so Liz had a mission: to prove to Jason she was a woman and he was not immune to her…feminine wiles.

* * *

"Damn collar!" Max groaned. He walked around the empty church, bored out of his scull. 

What the heck did priests do on their off hours anyway? Over at the monastery, there had been a heated game of chess going on. Yeah, it looked like a_ lot_ of fun. Too bad, he didn't know how to play anyway. He'd wandered the grounds almost the whole morning and still had too much energy to sit still for longer than five minutes. Who knew priests woke up at six a.m.? Certainly he didn't and was none too happy to find out first hand.

Strutting around like a sly cat, Max studied the various figures of Jesus that sat on pedestals around the church. Finding one particularly interesting, he picked it up to examine the bottom, wondering where it was made. Whistling some tune that wasn't quite recognizable as "Silent Night" he laughed at the "made in China" emblem.

Behind him someone cleared their throat.

Startled, Max let go of the figurine and threw his hands up in the air. Once a criminal… He watched it crash to the ground.

"Oh, Christ, I'm going to hell!" Spinning around, his eyes fixated on Jason. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph, my father was right, I am the son of Satan! Jason, tell me you can fix this."

Meeting him at the front of the church in three short strides, Jason crouched down. He took the fallen pieces of the ceramic in his hands and placed them in his lap piecing them together. Satisfied that it could be salvaged, he nodded and let a small smile pass his lips.

"You are the man!" Max yelled and slapped his hand down on the alter shaking loose the wooden cross that sat on top of it.

"That's it! I'm going straight to hell! My mother will be so ashamed she won't even attend my damn funeral and they probably won't even let me be buried in a Catholic cemetery after this. Oh god, I'll be the family outcast even in death. I couldn't have just been a florist like Uncle Maurice! No, no, I had to have a gun! Frickin' crime dramas! Damn Scorsese and Coppola! Damn, Brando and De Niro and Pacino! No good, gun-toting fools! My mother said those movies would rot my brain. I should have listened! But, no. I had to be a big shot. That's how they get you, you know. With all the glamour and glory… You didn't see any of them masquerading as a priest, did you, huh?!"

Jason barely looked at Max. He patiently glued the statue of Jesus back together with steady, strong hands. Leaving the figure to dry, Jason clapped Max on the back and fetched the cross from the ground. The wood was splintered a bit, but that wasn't what concerned him. The figure of Jesus had actually been knocked from the cross and to replace it, Jason would have to nail him back to it. Looking over at Max, he grimaced and took the hammer out of his tool belt accompanied by a few nails.

Max tapped Jason on the shoulder. A thought had just come to him. "We cannot tell Sonny about this!" he stated, adamantly.

Jason shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't going to be the one to say anything to anyone.

"Oh, right," Max apologized and let a small chuckle pass his lips.

Letting paranoia claim the best of him, Max walked up and down the aisle making sure no one was around.

* * *

Elizabeth rehearsed everything Trisha had told her on the walk over. She'd rejected more than half of her suggestions and only kept listening to the ones that didn't make her blush. She had no idea how Jason was going to react, but was anxious to find out. Now she just had to do something to relax before she put The Plan into action. 

She noticed a larger man shouldering the doors when she walked up to the church. "Oh, I'm sorry, Father, there's usually no one here at this time."

Caught off guard, Max turned around and stared down at the petite brunette. "What?"

"I just came to do some sketches before I went up to the main house and I didn't expect anyone would be here. I'm Elizabeth Webber." She smiled and offered a dainty hand to the guard disguised as a priest.

Max cleared his throat and took her hand in his.

So, this was Elizabeth Webber.

He hadn't been sure what to expect and he wasn't certain she was what he had been anticipating. But one thing was for sure, all the guards were right, she certainly was a looker. He scolded himself for even having such thoughts. He was supposed to be a priest, he reminded himself. Releasing her hand, he stepped back from the doors so she could enter.

"I was just checking on things… You know, seeing if there were any repairs to be made or anything. Jason was helping," he indicated over his shoulder where Jason was a moment ago, "to fix some things."

Elizabeth's brows crinkled. "There's no one there."

"Oh," Max said, stepping over to the Alter and genuflecting for Elizabeth's benefit, before he eyed the cross back in place with a small note attached. Picking up the note he read aloud. "_Good as new. Jason._ He certainly is a man of few words," Max commented.

"Sure is," Elizabeth agreed, hiding the little bit of excitement that rose in her stomach at the mention of Jason. "Do you have a name, or do you all just go by Father?" she teased and strolled past him easily.

"Well," he stammered, "I guess you can call me Father Max, or just Max, I'm not really sure how it all works," he said, his brows creased.

Turning to face him again, her eyes scrutinized his face. "You're not sure how it works?"

"Well, I'm new here. I've never actually been a priest before... I mean, in this area. I just came down here from...Canada. Yeah, things are done a little different up there."

"Oh, but you _are _a priest right? You're not another one of those fake priests are you?"

"Fake priests?" he asked, trying to remain looking innocent. A twinge of guilt pestered at him, but he swallowed it down and told himself it was for the best.

"Well, after that Edward man pretended to be a priest, how can I be so sure you're not pretending too?"

Max smiled.

Elizabeth was one smart cookie.

"I guess you'll have to trust me."

She tapped her chin with her index finger and her eyes lit up. "Or I could quiz you!"

"Quiz me?" Max asked, skeptically.

Elizabeth's smile broadened. "Yeah, like ask you a bunch of religious questions to make sure you're legit."

Rubbing his sweaty palms down the legs of his pants, Max took in some much needed air and then expelled it noisily. "If that's what it will take, go ahead."

Her stance widened and her shoulders squared and the smile that had been on her face seemed to vanish into thin air. Replacing it was a mask of indifference. "Okay, ever heard the one about the priest, the skydiver and the mailman?"

"What? _That's_ a religious question?" Max ran his chubby fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp with his nails.

Tilting her head to the side, she observed him again and then just as quickly as it had left, her smile returned. "It's a joke. Only, I can't quite remember how it goes, but I know it involves a bar and naked women...or was it sheep?"

"And how exactly would that prove to you that I was a real priest."

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked. Receiving a shrug of the shoulders as an answer, she went on. "It's all about deductive reasoning. If you've heard the joke then you would have completed it and if you'd completed it, then I would have known you were a fake, because what would a priest be doing listening to silly, sexist jokes about barnyard animals and women with large... Um, anyway," Elizabeth studied him for a minute, before she finally sighed. "I guess I believe you."

"Well, I'm glad I passed the test." Max laughed. "Do you want to sit down?"

"Oh, I think I better stand." She grimaced, rubbing her sore butt unconsciously.

Max looked at her quizzically but didn't comment. They stayed silent for a long time before he realized she was staring at him. _Ah, shit!_ "Is there something you wanted to talk about?"

"No. Not really. I'm not good at the whole _confession_ thing. My mother was Catholic though. She took me to church every Sunday. Sometimes she even got up in front of everyone and read a passage from the bible. I know I could never do that. All those people watching me? No, thanks! But people were captivated by her. When she spoke, she made anything sound interesting. I always thought it took a lot of guts to stand up there in front of total strangers. She was always so brave." Her voice trailed off and she squinted trying to block the tears that had collected from falling.

Max looked down at her, took in her slumped shoulders and shaky breathing. "Was?" he asked softly, tenderly, like a friend she'd known for years.

Slowly, her head lifted and she rubbed at her eyes. Gathering her courage she spoke. "She died."

Rocking on his heels, Max shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

Brushing off her cheek, she waved her hand at him like it was no big deal. "It was a long time ago."

"Just because time passes, that doesn't make the ache feel any less. You miss her a lot."

"Every day." Elizabeth looked off to the side, staring down her old demons. Finally she sobered. "Well, it was nice talking to you, Father, but I don't really feel all that much like sketching anymore. I think I'll go find where Jason went."

"Alright," Max said. His smile was warm. "You take care of yourself and remember I'm here if you ever need to talk."

"I will. Thanks."

Yep, Max was positive he was going straight to Hell.

* * *

Ducking her head into the room, a smile grew on Elizabeth's face when she realized she'd finally tracked Jason down. 

"So, this is where you wandered off to." Her tone wasn't accusatory. She was merely making an observation. "Father Max told me you were helping him earlier."

Jason looked up, acknowledging her presence and went straight back to his game of pool.

Elizabeth hesitated at the entrance, sucked in a breath and took the few steps needed to bring her directly into the room. Tilting her head to the side, she watched him.

Everything about him was raw and male. There was something so fierce about him, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. But underneath there was a hint of vulnerability. He didn't like to show that part of himself. But she'd seen it once or twice.

He was wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt. There was a small hole right at his neck where the threads had started to pull loose at the collar. Her eyes were drawn to that spot. To that little patch of skin she shouldn't be allowed to see. The skin there was just a shade or two lighter than the skin on his neck.

Sometimes when she stayed for dinner, she and Sonny would be at the table long before Jason. They always waited before they began to eat dinner. Waited until everyone was seated and the prayer had been said. But, sometimes, when Jason had just came in from outside, maybe after he'd been chopping firewood all afternoon, his skin would be a deep red and chapped from the cold. Sometimes she could still smell pine on his skin. When she knew he wasn't paying attention, she would watch him. Watch him until the red began to fade and the natural color returned. Sometimes he'd catch her eyes and she'd have to look away. But there was something so…normal about it. His usually hardened features seemed more relaxed, like _he_ was thawing. _That_ was the Jason she wanted to get to know.

She wondered if he was avoiding looking at her or if he was really _that_ into his game. Needing a few minutes to build up some courage anyway, she surveyed her surroundings. She hadn't been in this room before. She'd walked by it, but this was the first time she'd actually stepped foot inside. The walls were a deep maroon, littered with black and white photos. There was a shelf filled with various objects she only vaguely recognized from places around the world; wooden shoes from Holland; Russian nesting dolls; a small sombrero from Mexico… Kitschy things. The pool table, a high-gloss oak model, took up most of the free space. The colors and contents of the room were all mismatched. It reminded her of a rec room. But it fit Jason.

Crouched over the green-felted table Jason prepared for his next shot, barely looking up from his game. He stroked the cue between his fingers. There was chalk dust on his index finger and thumb—streaks of blue that reminded Elizabeth of a stormy sky.

Taking the shot, Jason sunk a solid and continued until he cleared the table. He finally looked up at her and gave her a curt nod in recognition.

With tingles racing up her arms, she decided it was time to put her plan into action. She'd worn the tight black pants and somewhat low-cut top Trisha had recommended. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable and somehow she felt a little more like a woman--as much as she hated to admit it. She hadn't realized how much, and for how long, she had suppressed her own femininity. She'd hidden herself for too long under bulky sweaters and modesty. She wasn't doing this to be someone else. The high-heels and light make-up were as much for her as they were for Jason. It had been a long time since she'd felt…sexy. Or even alive.

And she did. She really did.

And that was what made this dangerous.

It was easy to get lost—to get caught up in feelings and sensations and the absolute beauty of Jason's eyes.

She'd done it before and been wrong. It was easy, she knew, to get caught up in something…or someone, that could wreck her, pull her apart in ways she didn't even know were possible. But that was the past. And she'd put the past behind her when she'd moved to Port Charles. Her grandmother had never let her dwell. Not on things she couldn't change.

But everything was a risk. And she was willing to take this one. And, besides, Jason would never hurt her. For as much as she didn't know him, she at least believed that about him, knew it deep in her gut.

Elizabeth walked further into the room. The clothes changed the way she moved. The material clung to her skin, hugging her curves and changing her stride. There was grace in her step and, without consciously making the decision, her hips swung back and forth ever-so-subtly in a welcoming sashay. She felt sensual and wickedly sinful.

Grabbing the stick from Jason's powerful hands, she rested her hip against the wood of the table. "You know," she said, clearing her throat, washing away the last vestiges of her nerves, "we used to have a pool table at my house, but I never did learn how to play."

Jason watched her. There was something…different about her today. Her eyes were glimmering with determination.

She circled the table like a cat on prowl. Her movements were slow. Pulling out the balls from the corner pocket, she stretched over the table. Flicking out her wrist, she made sure Jason got a good view of the curve of her ass. If she was going to play this role, she was going to dive in headfirst and pull no punches.

"Am I doing this right?" Over her shoulder she eyed him and gave her brightest smile. "Relax, I'm not going to bite you," she laughed. "Unless that's what you're into," she whispered saucily under her breath.

She looked confident. She sounded confident. But inside, her heart was racing a mile a minute and her stomach was doing flip flops.

She'd seen Steven playing pool thousands of times, but the dynamics were _way_ different here. She used to lie on the soft carpet under her father's pool table in the den, ignoring her brother and sketching with her pencil crayons. Eventually, her father would kick her out of the room because she was "bothering Steven," but she'd sneak back in and sketch for hours. She liked the way the light fell against the page. How she had to strain sometimes to see the paper and the images she was drawing. It was how she learned about shading.

"Are you going to help me?" she tossed over her shoulder, not able to look at him for fear he would see right through her lame attempt at seduction.

Jason watched her, wanting to find a flaw, some tiny blemish that might change his feelings for her; something that would make him turn away. But there was nothing. Not one spec of anything that could be perceived as wrong.

His mind screamed: turn away! Run like you always do! But he was sick of remaining detached; sick of not taking when he wanted, not touching when he so badly needed human contact.

Swaggering over to her, like he was drunk with the sight of her, he moved so he was behind her, practically pinning her to the wood of the table.

She let out a startled gasp. A jolt of fire started to slowly burn inside her. She didn't know how much she wanted him as close as he was until she felt his arms wrap around her and she was protected in the crevice of his shoulders and biceps.

He was lonely, so goddamn lonely. His chest actually ached when he touched her hand. He hadn't realized how badly he wanted to touch her until he did, until his fingers smoothed over hers and molded them to the pool cue. Relief washed through him.

Burying his nose in her hair, he drew in a breath, inhaling that soft, subtle smell that he'd become accustomed to. He knew he should feel ashamed of wanting her so much. But there was no shame when his fingers slid against hers, and his body pressed tightly against the round shape of her buttocks.

Together they slid the cue forward and sunk a striped ball into the opposite pocket.

"I got it in!" she said excited, letting the cue drop and ending their contact.

Elizabeth turned in his arms pitting their bodies so close she could feel his pulse against her chest. Looking up at him, she was saddened by what she saw.

He was like a child.

Unsure. Scared. Lost. She didn't know what her next move should be. Suddenly, seducing Jason didn't seem right. Playing games wasn't what she wanted this to be about.

Her hand hesitated and then she gave into the temptation, skimming her fingers over his chiseled forearms and up, over his biceps and sturdy shoulders and onto the cut of his jaw. He flexed and relaxed under her caress. "You have the saddest eyes I've ever seen. What makes you so sad, hmm?" Elizabeth said, tenderly, lightly touching his cheek with her cool, soft fingers.

Jason tongued the small wound inside his mouth, using it to remind himself to stay detached.

His hand covered hers, and though he was not physically rough, it still stung her heart when he pulled her hand from his face.

If possible, his eyes were even more sorrowful.

Poison, he reminded himself. That's what he was.

"Jason, Max wanted to know if you have any more of that super glue. I told him I had no idea what he was talking about! I thought maybe you'd know," Sonny asked, stumbling into the room, his eyes on the ground and a cold compress on the back of his neck.

Jason and Elizabeth broke apart instantly and took up separate halves of the room.

Sonny looked up, but didn't comment on the obvious tension in the room. "Oh! Elizabeth, I didn't know you were here."

"I was just leaving," she told him, her voice shaky.

Jason dug his hand deep in his pocket and faced the ground.

"Oh, well then, why don't you come for dinner tomorrow night? I'll make you something special."

Elizabeth consciously avoided looking at Jason. Her heart was still beating too fast for her to think properly, but she managed to take in Sonny's words somehow. "Sonny, why don't you let_ me_ make dinner tomorrow night? Give yourself a break and take a rest. You're not going to get any better if you keep pushing yourself so hard."

Pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand and dabbing at his sweaty forehead with the other, Sonny decided there would be no harm in having Elizabeth cook dinner. "You know, Elizabeth, I think you're right."

"Great! Tomorrow night, then."

"Tomorrow night," he agreed enthusiastically.

Elizabeth couldn't get out of there fast enough.

* * *

Because she'd been having dinner at the Morgan/Corinthos house for so long, Elizabeth thought it was time to start earning her keep, so to speak. Since, Sonny, nor Jason, would take money for letting her paint and eating their food, she decided to help them out by giving Sonny the night off and cooking for the house. 

Really, she did feel bad for Sonny, who _obviously_ wasn't use to people helping him. Even in his weakened state, he'd left detailed instructions of _what_ to cook and_ how_ to do it before he left to cook for the priests a few buildings over. Elizabeth mused that if she didn't know better, she'd think Sonny might have control issues.

Since he still wasn't feeling up to normal, he allowed her to help. Otherwise it would have been like twisting his arm to let her in his immaculate kitchen.

Elizabeth studied the now-smudged recipe card in her hand. She couldn't decipher some of the instructions, so that left her improvising a little. She knew Sonny had basically listed every ingredient and measurement before he left, but did he really expect her to listen? God, he could get so irrational about food.

Jason, for the past hour, had been sitting in the kitchen reading some magazine without lifting a finger to help.

She snorted. She had her suspicions that Sonny had made him sit there just to keep an eye on her and make sure she didn't screw anything up.

"Hey, did Sonny say a tablespoon or teaspoon of chili powder?"

When Jason just shrugged, barely looking up from the motorcycle magazine he was reading, she puffed out an annoyed breath. Why did she even bother? It wasn't like all of a sudden Jason was going to miraculously give up his vow of silence just so he could tell her how much of a certain ingredient to put into the chili.

And it wasn't likely that after what had almost happened between them the day before that he was here of his own free will. God, she'd practically thrown herself at him! Who knows what would have happened had Sonny not interrupted them? _So _embarrassing!

"What do you think…three cloves of garlic or four?" She looked up briefly not really expecting a response, but found Jason holding up four fingers and that made her smile. "Well, well, you may be of some use yet, Morgan. I always say the more garlic the better. You think we should make it five?" Liz asked raising an eyebrow and with humor in her tone.

She got a thumbs-up and it made her laugh. Usually she would have felt like she was talking to herself even with Jason here, but somehow tonight seemed different. "Okay, I guess I'll just let this simmer or whatever, and start making the salad."

Elizabeth wasn't exactly the best cook. She wasn't horrible, but she certainly didn't have the lingo down, either.

Sitting down, across from Jason, Elizabeth set to work peeling carrots. She held the orange vegetable in her hand and put the peeler taut against it.

Jason watched her and felt certain tightness in his jeans.

"You like motorcycles I take it," she said, looking up. All she had seen him read on her visits were either travel books or biker magazines and tonight it just happened to be the latter.

He nodded and resumed reading.

"I like your bike. It makes me feel…I don't know… Free? That's a good word for it, I guess. You know how people get that runner's high? I think I get something like that when I'm on your motorcycle." She could see him peering up at her from the corner of his magazine, pretending he was still reading. "Look, about yesterday… I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable." She sighed. "I just thought... I thought you... I guess it really doesn't matter what I thought. It's over and done with and there's no permanent damage, right?" She chuckled, rolling her eyes. Next time she was going to leave the seducing to Trisha.

"You know, I probably shouldn't be telling you this..." She paused, getting up and throwing away the carrot peels. Sitting back down, she resumed, "Where was I? Oh yeah, I shouldn't be telling you, but your whole loner-boy, no-speaking thing, really intrigues me."

He met her eyes for that.

She swallowed hard. Those eyes…

"Most guys I know like to go on and on…and on about themselves and you can barely get in a word edgewise. I mean, who really cares if they score four touchdowns in some semi-final playoff or whatever? Am I right? Well, anyway, with you, I have to do all the talking. Not that I mind, like I said I tend to talk a lot when I'm nervous. Not that I'm nervous." She covered with a small laugh. "Anyway, my point is, you're not predictable. I never know what you're going to do."

Elizabeth looked up.

The magazine was on the table and he was studying her.

She was lying when she said she wasn't nervous. When she realized he was actually listening, paying attention, she started to worry.

"Jason...is-is it weird that I wonder what your voice sounds like?"

Jason's heart was pounding fast. If this girl had any idea how she effected him, they would not be sitting here anymore. If she knew he didn't find her the least bit annoying and that her voice was a comfort he hadn't known, he wouldn't be able to stand it any longer. He would carry her to his room and make mad passionate love to her. But, alas, he sat there and listened. The more she thought he hated her, the better off they both would be.

The last comment caught him totally off guard though.

"It's silly, really." She began to methodically cut the carrots into tiny rounds. She could feel his eyes on her, examining her, and it made her edgy. Taking a quick glance at his face, she misjudged the direction of the knife and sliced into her finger.

"Dammit!" Elizabeth swore, rising from her feet. The gash opened and spilled blood all over the carrots. "Why do things like this always happen to me?"

Jason stood, dishcloth in hand. He gently took her small hand in his, wrapping it up until they made it to the sink.

Elizabeth stared up at him, unblinking. His hands were large and looked strong; solid, just like the rest of him. She turned from his crystal blue eyes and focused on the blood rushing from one of her digits. The cut wasn't too deep and it didn't look like it needed stitches.

Jason ran cool water over the wound.

She flinched. "I do things like this all the time. I'm just clumsy, I guess. Lucky me," she sighed. "This is just great! Really, this is all I need! What kind of crap will I be able to draw now?"

He removed her hand from the water and examined the cut. His face remained stoic. He guided her back to the kitchen table, making her sit down.

Leaving her in the chair, he walked down the hall toward the bathroom. Rummaging through the bathroom cabinets, he located the first aid kit and hurried back to Elizabeth.

Once again he took her tiny manicured hand in his own and looked at her injury. Jason opened the case, taking out some gauze and antiseptic. Sloshing some onto a cotton ball he tenderly wiped away some of the remaining blood. The bleeding had all but stopped.

Elizabeth recoiled. The medicine slightly stung.

He must have noticed and the next time he dabbed at the gash he soothed it with a soft blow of air from his lips.

She closed her eyes. Actually delighted by the sweet sentiment, even if he didn't realize it was one.

He tried to remain impassive—tried to ignore the feel of her soft skin against his. But when she closed her eyes and let out the tiniest of sighs he was done for. Her lips looked so soft and he wanted to protest when she tortured the bottom one by gripping it with her teeth.

Sonny had called her beautiful.

He was wrong.

She was more than that. He didn't even have the words to express it.

Turning his attention back to her hand, he gathered all his strength to get it over with as quickly as possible. Two more seconds of holding her and being so close and he was sure he would do something he would regret.

She watched him while he wrapped and taped her wound with care. Not once did he look up and not once did she look away.

The tension in the air was palpable and would not be ignored. It took on a life form of its own so that Elizabeth and Jason were breathing it in, letting it sink into their lungs so their chests tightened.

He replaced the supplies to the box and left to return it to its rightful place.

Elizabeth, newly bandaged, and flustered, sat on her chair, trying to get a grasp of what had happened. _Nothing_ had actually happened, other than the normally standoffish Jason was a little less that way, but yet she sensed something more was going on.

Was it just her that felt the jolt of pleasure when they touched? Was she alone in the desire to touch again?

Jason stopped in the hallway before he reentered the kitchen. He leaned against the wall and banged his head a few times, none-too-lightly. Taking a deep breath, he composed himself. The last thing he needed was for Elizabeth to think she had gotten to him. _Dammit_ when had things become like this between them? Or had it always been there?

Elizabeth had cleared the mess by the time he came into the kitchen. She was wielding another knife.

Jason slipped it easily from her.

"Hey!" she protested.

Jason shook his head and returned the blade from the drawer from which it came.

This did not sit well with Elizabeth who went to retrieve it when he walked away.

From the corner of his eye, he caught her movements and spun around grabbing her upper arm.

She resisted but he didn't let up.

"Jason, this isn't fair! I promised Sonny I would cook for all of us. I hate breaking my promises."

Jason, always the charmer, shrugged his shoulders.

Realizing he was still gripping her arm, she flashed her eyes over the connection.

He instantly released her and looked down at the ground. His face flushed pink and he stepped back a few steps, leaning against the counter.

Elizabeth sighed, hating to think she made him believe he had done something wrong. "Relax. I'm fine. You don't have to look so guilty." She smiled.

Watching him raise his head, she nearly gasped at the extreme blueness of his eyes. They were even more intense than she had seen before. He seemed to be unsure, not wanting to believe the truth. "You win, okay? I won't use the stupid knife. But when Sonny asks what happened, I'm blaming you." She turned then, burning from his gaze.

Jason was relieved. The thought that he had potentially hurt her was not one he was comfortable with.

* * *

Sonny rubbed his full stomach and pulled his chair slightly away from the dining room table. "Thanks for making dinner, Elizabeth." 

"I'm sorry about the salad." She bowed her head, embarrassed.

"Oh, that's all right. I would rather not eat than have you injure yourself further."

"Hey, I was doing fine until Mr. McMute decided to take away my knife." She scowled, aiming her fierce stare at an uninterested Jason.

"I think under the circumstances it was for the best." Sonny laughed. "How's the hand anyway?"

"Fine." She pouted. "He's getting off on this, you know. Look at him sitting there all smug. You're enjoying every minute of this, aren't you?!" Elizabeth stuck her tongue out at Jason. She knew it was immature but dammit when had she ever let that stop her? She suppressed a laugh when Jason first looked shocked and then repeated her action just when Sonny turned to catch him.

"Jason?" Sonny questioned, amused.

Simply shrugging his shoulders Jason eased back into the tall chair, ignoring the deep crimson that colored his cheeks.

That was all it took for Elizabeth to crack up, joined shortly by Sonny.

Turning his head to the side Jason tried to stop the smile that was creeping onto his face.

"Was that a smile?" Elizabeth cooed. "Jason Morgan, I knew you had a sense of humor somewhere. You should do that more. Smile, I mean. It looks good on you," Elizabeth said to him, even surprising herself with her forwardness.

_Was she flirting? _

Oh, _God_. She_ was_.

No more wine!

"I have to... um...go pick up Father Giambetti from the...the McKenna's. Will you two be all right until I get back?" Sonny asked, already putting on his coat and pulling his keys from his pocket.

"We'll be just fine. I might even teach Jason a thing or two while you're gone."

Jason's head snapped up and he looked to Sonny for help.

"Relax, big boy, I'm talking about doing the dishes." She laughed and it was deep and throaty, almost seductive. Did she really just call him _big boy_?

"Let Jason do the dishes. I don't want you getting that cut infected, Miss Webber."

Elizabeth nodded. "No problem."

The blush on Jason's face just seemed to deepen the more she talked and she couldn't help finding it amusing. She felt relaxed and playful from the wine.

Jason stood gathering plates and glasses in his strong hands. He avoided her place setting and moved into the kitchen, coming back and forth until he had the table cleared.

Elizabeth sat silently watching him, noticing his concentrated effort not to look at her. "So domesticated," she purred. "Do you do windows, too?"

He sent her a steady glare and then returned to the kitchen where he proceeded to fill the sink with water and soap.

Elizabeth followed him, leaning against the counter while she watched him pick up the yellow rubber gloves that were obviously too small for his hands. She propped herself onto the counter top and picked up a tea towel.

"I'll dry," she announced, watching his face flicker with some emotion she didn't quite recognize.

Deciding the gloves were too small, he threw them to the side.

The sight of Jason Morgan doing dishes was amusing, to say the least. This was the same guy that had jumped nearly two feet in the air with a roundhouse kick the first day she met him. He had the body of a Greek God and the hands...well, hands that were sinfully strong and worked-in. Hands that she wouldn't mind having touch her... Everywhere.

He handed her dish after dish and she dried in silence, stealing glimpses at Jason while his sudsy hands emerged from the water time and time again.

"I never thanked you," she said, piling the last plate with the others. "For fixing my finger," she clarified, wiggling it for emphasis, "I didn't thank you."

Jason looked at her, let his eyes wander to her injured finger. It had bled some and the red stained through the clean white gauze.

Taking the dish towel from her hands, he dried his own—now wrinkled from the water.

Elizabeth smiled softly at his shriveled up fingers. "Your hands look like big ol' prunes," she teased.

He didn't say anything, well, _obviously_, but his eyes—the form of communication she had unwittingly started to rely on—remained impassive. He barely looked at her when he took her hand in his and gently began to un-wrap the bandage from her finger. He studied it between his own hands and seemed satisfied that she was okay. Leaving her there, propped up on the counter, he went to get the first aid kit again.

Elizabeth breathed deeply as if the contact had weakened her. She was a sitting duck being charmed by the un-charming Jason Morgan and he didn't even know he was doing it.

When Jason came back she had calmed herself down.

He took her hand again, dabbing it with hydrogen peroxide first and then spreading some ointment on the cut. After one last inspection, he proceeded to wrap it up again.

"Thank you," Elizabeth said, quietly.

He backed away, replacing the tube of ointment and the unused gauze.

The room was steeped in yellow light from the living room and from where Elizabeth sat she could still see the lone candle she had put at the center of the table for dinner, flickering. She hadn't thought to blow it out earlier, but the wax was starting to spill over onto the tablecloth.

About to hop off the counter, she was surprised to find strong hands, Jason's hands, gripping her waist, about to ease her to the ground. But he stopped. And he didn't move his hands. He simply pushed her back further onto the granite countertop and wedged himself in the space between her legs.

Her heart leapt to her throat when she gazed up at Jason and his face was so close to hers that their noses bumped.

His eyes settled on her lips, took in every indent of her perfectly formed teeth and there was no other thought on his mind but kissing her. His hands moved of their own accord, skirting up and lifting the corners of her shirt so he revealed a small patch of milky-white skin. Touching her there, he felt the extreme softness of her right down to his bones.

His labored breathing fanned over her cheek and warmed her through, drawing a deep need to the surface. His fingers played a staccato rhythm against her skin, fighting with his brain on which direction to turn.

Her hand snaked out to touch his forearm, guiding his hand further up her torso and underneath her shirt. She watched his pupils dilate and knew she was being very bold. And then his fingers moved without her guidance, gently skirting her ribcage. His hands were shaking. Sweeping over her skin in practiced elegance and shaking! God, she wanted…

She inhaled sharply. "_Jason_."

It came out as a breathy moan, snapping him out of his revelry.

Pressing his forehead to hers, she thought she heard him groan before he pulled away and left her alone, hot and frustrated.

She sat there for a moment, in silence, catching her breath, before she jumped down from the counter and tried to steady her shaking legs. How could it be that she felt so much for a man who had never spoken a word to her? She couldn't help but think how much really gets lost when words are the only means to communicate. Being around Jason, she was starting to learn that words weren't always so important.

But the one thing she still couldn't understand was why he kept pulling away.

* * *

At the church doors, Sonny caught sight of Max sitting in one of the pews. 

"Max," he whispered, "get out here."

"Hey, boss," Max said, his breath misting in the cool night air.

"Max, you know I'm not... I'm not your boss anymore," Sonny regretfully told him.

He spoke so he wouldn't have to look Sonny in the eye. "I'm sorry. It's just a habit, I guess." Max reached into his pockets and pulled out his leather gloves, putting them on.

"It's fine, don't worry about it. Has anything new happened? Edward or his little spies been around?"

"No, everything's been pretty quiet. Johnny's been handling business and Frank's been tailing Edward, but so far nothing."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sonny steadied himself against a dizzy spell. "I'm not sure that's a good thing. He knows we'll be watching him. He's waiting for one of us to slip up."

Max's eyebrows fused together in confusion. "Pardon my ignorance, but what's the big deal? What's he after?"

"Jason. He's after his grandson and he'll use anyone to get to him and that means Elizabeth." Sonny took a deep breath and didn't like the sound of the wheeze that accompanied it.

"I don't think I understand."

"It's complicated," Sonny told him, his mind distant. Looking Max over, his brow creased. "What are you doing back in your normal clothes and why are you carrying your gun?"

Max padded himself down, scratching at his neck. "That damn collar itches! And, as for the gun…I can't protect her without it."

Sonny rolled his eyes. "The whole point was for you to blend in."

"I did blend in. I blended in so well she thinks I'm a real priest. She even confessed some things to me."

"What things?"

Max steeled his gaze. "I-I can't tell you that! It's priest/parishioner confidentiality or some shit like that. And, even if I could tell you, I wouldn't because...well, I just wouldn't feel right about it, that's all." Lowering his head, he hoped that was enough of an answer.

"Okay, be there for her if she needs you, wear the outfit when she's around, keep your gun hidden, but dammit, Max, don't go getting so attached that you can't do your job."

"I won't, Sonny, I promise you. After having met her, I can assure you that I don't want to see any harm come to her and I'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe," Max said, determination etched on his face.

"That's good to hear," Sonny said, clearing his sore throat. Taking his handkerchief from his pocket, he blew his nose.

"You know, you should have some herbal tea."

"Herbal tea?" Sonny questioned, his brow raised.

"Yeah, maybe some chamomile with a little lemon and honey; it'll clear ya right up."

"Max?"

"Yeah?"

Sonny shook his head and suppressed the laugh that was bubbling inside. "Never mind."


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Remembering Tibet  
Author: Kat/Yuppiekat  
Rating: R  
Disclaimer: I don't own...well, anything pertaining to GH.  
Summary: This is an Alternate Universe fic. (And, possibly, a strange one at that.)-- The past haunts Jason and Elizabeth. In order to heal, they'll need each other.  
Notes: There are a few things that you should know about this fic... This fic was started (I believe) in 2002, but time constraints and frustration about the show stalled the writing of this fic. I am in the middle of re-reading and revising all the chapters. I'm not sure how often I can post. I wish I had more time to work on this, but you'll have to settle for a sporadic posting schedule. The character of Lucky is, well, very out of character. I'm aware of that. There is also a lot of head hopping in this fic... Um, sorry about that.

* * *

Once again Elizabeth found herself at the monastery. It was like a magnetic pull. Half had to do with the magical scenery… As for the other half? Jason Morgan was definitely the one to blame. 

She knew little about the man and, at times, had her suspicions if he even liked her. Sometimes, things were so clear between them. Like he felt an ounce of what she was feeling, something inert and hard to explain…something that overwhelmed her whenever she looked into his eyes. And then there were the other times—the times he ignored her and kept his distance; the times when he was like a blank slate, when she couldn't decipher what he was feeling or if he even felt at all.

But there was something…alluring about his presence. It was like every time he was around things made sense. She got what the point was. She was even able to focus for more than two seconds. If she didn't know better, she'd almost call him her inspiration.

The wind was blistering her sensitive skin and the snow, blowing from drifts in the woods, was coating it in shiny drops as it melted, but Elizabeth didn't seem to notice. She was so engulfed in yet another sketch that it barely registered how far she'd wandered.

Perched on a fallen tree, she sketched the half-frozen streams. The ice struggled to move in the swift current, breaking apart and sailing away, reflecting the sun in a flashing kaleidoscope of color.

The rocks shimmered like flakes of onyx under their watery blanket, winking at her. She smiled back, wistfully.

The sun was on her back. She could feel the heat soaking through her coat and the rays dance on her neck where her hair was pulled to the side. Although, it was still cold and wet, the sky was clear and without the disruption of clouds the light had held steady and kept her warm enough to enjoy a leisurely afternoon. It was later now. Much later than she thought. But the woods were calm and comforting. There was no sulfurous odor like there was on the harbor. Everything was clean and fresh-smelling and Elizabeth breathed it in with willing satisfaction.

Unfortunately for Elizabeth, her one-time adventure into the cooking world had landed her with an injury to her finger. And, at present, the twinge of pain was a pesky reminder of how neglectful she had been with her knife and how Jason had taken charge of the situation. Not that she minded, really, but what disturbed her most was the closeness.

It had been a couple of days and she could still feel his hot breath on her neck and his rough hands on her hips. If she didn't know better, she could have sworn he was going to kiss her. Shaking her head, she straightened out the damp pages that had begun to furl and proceeded to sketch, ignoring her cut finger in its unsavory white bandage.

The trees creaked when they shifted in the wind. It seemed the forest was alive with the sound of nature, happily chirping birds and furrowing woodland animals. Everything seemed normal and yet something felt _off_. Packing up her things, Elizabeth pulled her mittens over her slender finders to warm them. She stood. Listened. The sound of snow and leaves underfoot made her take notice.

"Hello?" she called, knowing it was probably just Jason spying on her and that he wouldn't answer her anyway. "It's not working, Morgan. Go back and tell Sonny I'm fine and to stop sending you to check up on me."

She waited.

Silence.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood. Her skin tingled with goose bumps and her face drained of color.

Her voice was soft, unsure. "Jason?"

Surely Jason would have shown himself by now, especially after the last time he'd snuck up on her and gotten a knee to the groin.

Jason knew better.

That was the thought that had her walking down the path from whence she came. She moved quickly; didn't run or jog, just walked as fast as her legs would take her.

Somewhere along the way she'd missed a turn.

Damn, she had no sense of direction!

Backtracking, her legs wobbled. She slowed her pace. Her heart was racing and she had no way to justify the terror that was starting to overwhelm her.

"Stop it, Webber!" she said aloud, softly, trying to calm her nerves.

Spotting a clearing in the woods, she moved toward it, stopped in her tracks when she heard the sound of a branch snap.

She wasn't alone.

Without second thought, she broke into a run, dashing through the forest like it was about to swallow her up. Ignoring the branches that stung her cheeks and brushed her clothing, Elizabeth darted in and out amongst the huge evergreens and smaller bushes.

She looked back, hoping to spot the person that had spooked her.

Big mistake.

Her leg connected with a deeply buried root sticking out from the ground. The instant she came into contact with it, a slicing plain ripped through her body. She tumbled to the ground, stretching out her hands to brace herself against the full impact of the fall. She landed hard with a resounding oomph!

She pounded the ground with her fist. "Damn it!"

Rolling over onto her back, she closed her eyes and bit her lip against the tingling sensation zip-lining through her system. She took a moment to rest, to calm her breathing. It was difficult getting back onto her knees, but once she did she hissed from the pain. Her books were scattered and her sketch book laid two feet away, absorbing the mushy wet snow. She crawled toward it, snapping it shut and wiping the residue on her coat. But it was no use. Everything was wet. Gathering her charcoal pencils and her art text, she haphazardly shoved them back into her book bag and slung it over her shoulder.

Pushing herself to get up, she used her strength to maneuver herself to a standing position. She tried to dust off the cool snow, already seeping into her jeans, with little success. She was sopping wet.

There was something rustling behind her. For a second she had forgotten what she had been running from. There wasn't time to assess herself for injuries. She already knew from the pain, when she attempted to stand tall, that she'd banged up her leg pretty good.

The adrenaline kicked in again and she took an unsure step. And then another. And another. Blocking out everything that was happening behind her, she focused on moving—moving as far and as fast from the shaded area as possible. There was light coming from up ahead and she focused on it, making it her goal. She just needed to reach that one stretch of opening and she knew she would be okay. She moved, one step in front of the other, until she was engulfed in the light she'd been seeking. Whatever had been behind her was gone now.

She hobbled the rest of the way out of the dense woods until she reached the gardens of the estate. Taking one last look behind her, a dozen birds spooked and flew off a branch just behind her, making her already pounding heart work overtime. Her chest was tight and burning for oxygen when she turned around and ran smack into the hard wall that was Jason Morgan.

His hands clamped around her waist. His breath fanned over her cheek and his eyes zeroed in on her quivering mouth. Spent and exhausted, she rested her head against the column of his throat, feeling his pulse race under her cheek. Realizing seconds too late what she was actually doing, she burrowed even further into his embrace from embarrassment.

Conjuring up some bravery, she lifted her eyes to his and offered him a small, slightly scared, attempt at a smile.

Jason's eyes were warm and concerned and Elizabeth felt an overwhelming sense of trust well up inside of her.

"I'm all right. I just fell. I feel so stupid. I thought someone was watching me or something and I guess I freaked myself out," she explained.

Jason didn't seem to hear her or, if he did, he was ignoring her chatter. His hands probed her arms for broken bones. Satisfied to see there were none, he crouched down and took a hold of her leg. Her pants were ripped and the blood was already making a stain.

He reached to touch her, ever so lightly, but the blinding pain flared once again. She winced and moved away from his hand, becoming off balance. On instinct she grabbed him around the neck to steady her.

"I told you I was clumsy." She blushed, still clutching the leather of his jacket. Her heartbeat was still quick and her pulse raced against her ears. "Besides, this is all kind of your fault, you know?"

Jason, from his crouched position, quirked a brow in question.

"Yeah. Don't look at me like that. It is. Seriously. You and Sonny have me all, like, on edge about your grandfather! I hear a noise—probably a freakin' bird or something—and I jump out of my skin! And now look! These were my favorite pair of pants! I'm not meant to run, Jason. I'm just not! In third grade we had to do track and field for PE in the gym because it was raining that day and I ran into the wall! The _concrete_ wall. It hurt. Sorta like it hurts right now. Ow!"

She was babbling again. Man, he loved when she did that.

Jason stood, lifting her slightly when he did. His eyes were large, wide and the most wonderful blue she'd ever seen.

Whatever Elizabeth was going to say next was lost.

He took her hands from around his neck and held them. Taking off her gloves, he rubbed his thumbs over the delicate skin of her palms. His hands were so large compared to hers and well worn-in, but his touch was gentle and sure. It made her feel like he could take away everything, every problem she'd ever had, just by touching her the way he did.

Her hands were soft and delicate next to his and it took everything in him not to bring them to his mouth and kiss every finger and inch of skin until he knew them just as intimately as she did. Her hair was out of place and her breath came in exaggerated pants. And so help him if he didn't think that was the way she'd look after he'd made love to her.

The sight of blood from the cut she'd endured while trying to cook for Sonny brought him back to reality and he reigned in his ever-growing imagination.

The sound of his breathing and the feel of his skin against hers almost overtook the unexpected warning bells when she felt Jason lifting her sleeves to check for scratches on her arms. Elizabeth pulled out of his grasp.

"What are you doing?" she asked, rolling her sleeves back down and ignoring the hurt look that contorted his handsome face.

Slightly fazed by her reaction, he slowly took her hand again and examined the now blood-stained gauze on her finger. Arching his eyebrows together he let out a stream of breath and dropped her hands. She let them fall to her sides.

The skin on her face had been scratched and was oozing bright red blood. Jason tenderly rested his fingers against the marred skin. A look of sympathy passed his face.

Elizabeth warmed to his touch, closing her eyes on a breathless sigh. His fingers were gentle while they traced the smeared lines. When she opened her eyes, she was surprised he was looking back at her. He was so close. All she would have to do was look up and have him lean in and then their lips would touch. She could feel the warm burst of his breath against her forehead and despite herself, she shivered. His eyes were a warm glow of blue and his mouth was ripe. Just one little inch, one small movement forward and she would be done for.

She tilted her chin up and she could have sworn she saw desire flicker in his eyes. He took a step and the next thing she knew she was in his arms. He carried her close to his chest like one would with a baby. Making it seem like she weighed nothing at all.

"I can walk. I'm not an invalid for God's sakes!" she protested half-heartedly.

He eyed her skeptically and kept walking, seemingly unburdened by her weight, toward the house.

"This is very barbaric of you, I hope you realize. Kind of caveman-esque."

Jason grunted in response and she had to laugh.

Truth be told, the sting of the cut on her leg was getting worse and she was glad for the relief. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she unconsciously buried her face against his shoulder.

It was a perfect fit and something about the entire situation felt right.

Kicking open the door, they were met by Sonny.

"Hi, Sonny," she whispered, feeling like an idiot.

Sonny's jaw dropped and he made no move to respond.

They passed the kitchen and made their way to the living room. Jason eased her down on the couch. Her heart fluttered wildly against her chest. "Well, I suppose a couch is better than some dank cave. Promise not to pound on your chest in victory and maybe I'll even thank you."

Jason smiled. It felt so warm and comforting. She'd never realized how long she'd yearned to see it. It was just a slow crease of his lips, a simple gesture. But it could only be described as shyly sexy. And that was kind of how she'd come to see Jason. He was this big guy with all these beautiful muscles, but he had this softness to him, especially in his eyes, in the way he looked at her. It was this shy searching look that always made Elizabeth feel like she was just a little off-balance.

Her smile mirrored his and when he turned away, she felt a little dizzy.

Dishrag slung over his shoulder, and Kleenex box in hand, Sonny crossed paths with Jason, who was on his way to get the first aid kit.

"Is she all right?"

Jason gave a curt nod and continued on his path.

"Elizabeth, what happened?" Sonny sat at the bottom of the couch and looked down at her battered leg.

Elizabeth waved off his concern. "Oh, there's no need to worry. I just tripped over a stump and landed pretty hard on my leg."

"I'll say. Let me go make some hot chocolate and I'll bring you back a blanket to warm you up."

"Oh no, really, I'm fine… Besides, you're sick. You don't need to take care of me."

"Elizabeth, please let me do something for you. And, besides, I'm feeling better."

"Sonny."

"Please, Elizabeth, don't argue. You must be freezing."

Elizabeth eyed herself, realizing she was soaking wet, and for the first time since running into Jason, she felt the chill right down to her bones.

"Thanks, Sonny. That would be nice."

"My pleasure."

He gave her one of his trademark grins, dimples and all, and moved away to the kitchen.

Closing her eyes she rested her head on one of the throw pillows behind her. The way Sonny constantly doted on her made her feel special, like she belonged and it had been a long while since she felt that way.

When she opened her eyes again, Jason had just come back into the room. His eyes twinkled when they met hers. Kneeling beside her, his hands fumbled with the first aid kit. Finding scissors, he seemed to hesitate.

"Go ahead, I don't mind," Elizabeth said, giving him permission to cut the material.

Given approval, he cut a slit in the fabric of her jeans and cleared enough away so he could get a better look at the wound. His face was tight and he grimaced.

The cut looked like it hurt and was deeper and more jagged than he'd originally anticipated. He held up the bottle of antiseptic so she could see it before he dabbed it on a bunch of cotton balls. When he applied the liquid to her knee, she sucked in a breath and he could see from the corner of his eye that she was trying to stop a tear from rolling down her cheek. He blew gently on the wound and then reached up and thumbed away her tear.

It was a move she wasn't expecting and her eyes widened in shock.

Jason didn't remove his hand right away and again she felt a sense of warmth and security rush into her system.

She rolled her eyes. "I guess you should be happy about this… Now that I'm incapacitated and all, I can't exactly cause the trouble you're used to. Well, at least now you're not at risk for getting a knee to your groin. I apologized for that, right?" She laughed nervously and bit her bottom lip when he didn't turn away.

Jason slowly smiled at that and it made Elizabeth oddly happy.

"I like when you do that," she said softly, aware of the heat in her cheeks even when the words tumbled out of her mouth.

Looking away, a blush came to the tips of his ears and his face seemed to tighten.

Covering the cut in a large square bandage, Jason got more cotton balls and took her hand, removing the old gauze and cleaning her cut finger. It had healed some and he used a band-aid to cover it back up.

Still holding onto her hand, he gave her a moment to relax before he dabbed some more cotton balls with antiseptic. He slowly applied them against her cheek, wiping away the drying blood and disinfecting the small spider-web scratches.

Christ, she was soft. He lowered his head just a little so his nose almost touched her unruly curls. He could smell that same sweet perfume she always wore and he breathed it in.

What he wanted to do was not entirely decent. He wanted to stick out his tongue and explore every inch of her flesh to find out where that scent came from and if she tasted as sweet as he believed. The thought shocked him.

"Jason," she murmured.

The word hit him hard in his stomach and his head moved lower, closer to her skin. His hand still cupped her face.

She squeezed his other hand and was thankful he was there. Her eyes rested on his lips, those strong, full lips that were so close to her own.

His hand slid to the back of her neck and massaged the muscles there. It was almost beyond his control when he began to pull her head forward toward his.

She felt so delicate, not weak, not small or insignificant, but like something desired. She felt like the kind of woman she always wanted to be. It was like she had succeeded in becoming the woman that made men weak in the knees and left them breathless. Before she could control herself, she felt her head moving forward, closer to Jason.

The air in the room seemed to crackle.

Jason was lost. He stared into her wonderfully expressive eyes and continued to move in closer..._needing_ to be closer. Needing to kiss her.

"Here's the hot chocolate!"

The spell that had such a hold on them was instantly broken.

Jason got himself together. Using the side of the couch for leverage, he stood.

"I uh, I brought you some sweat pants and a sweatshirt. They'll probably be a little big, but they're warm." Sonny shifted his weight from foot to foot, feeling like he'd interrupted something but not exactly sure what.

"Thanks, Sonny," Elizabeth said, accepting the garments and pulling the sweater over her head.

With a slight smile, Sonny winked at Jason. "Thank Jason. They're his."

Elizabeth was thankful that her face was still concealed within the fabric of the sweatshirt so they couldn't see the red stain that coated her cheeks. She felt the heat rise and mustered the courage to pull the shirt completely down.

"Thanks, Jason. I-I think I better call a cab. They take forever at this time of night and I'm beat."

A small yawn escaped her, only serving to emphasis her point. Darting looks between Sonny and Jason, Elizabeth sunk deeper into the couch, almost like she wanted it to swallow her up.

Seeing the tension was still spread thick between the pair, Sonny tried for a small intervention. "Elizabeth, it's late and you're hurt, why don't you just stay over? We have plenty of room."

"Oh no, Sonny, I couldn't," Elizabeth protested, trying to sit up despite the fact that her body felt heavy and her head spun with the prospect of actually moving.

"I insist. Besides, it's started to snow again and I doubt there's going to be any taxi willing to drive all the way out here. It'll be fine. We'll set you up in one of the rooms upstairs and you can sleep in as late as you want, I promise."

Elizabeth laughed. "Well, that's the best offer I've had all day. I'll stay."

"Great!" Sonny clapped his hands together.

Holding up her hand, she put a temporary halt to Sonny's victory. "On one condition: I stay right where I am."

"You can't sleep there. I'll bet it's not even comfortable."

Shifting around, Elizabeth snuggled deeper into the warm cushions. "Actually, I sleep on a couch at my studio and I'm not used to sleeping in a bed anymore."

"Are you sure?" Sonny saw the look of determination on Elizabeth's face and decided it wasn't worth the fight he was sure to have. "All right, you win. But tomorrow I make a huge breakfast without a single protest. Deal?"

"Deal," Elizabeth said, smiling.

She spared a look at Jason whom she'd almost forgotten was in the room. He stood like a statue, and there was an expression on his face she couldn't read. Dragging her eyes away, she finally realized Sonny had been speaking to her. "I'm sorry, Sonny, what did you say?"

"Do you have plans for Thanksgiving? We'd be more than happy to have you here. In fact, I think Johnny and Francis might be disappointed if you don't come." Sonny's eyes twinkled.

"Oh, I don't know."

Sonny clasped his stubbly chin between his fingers. "Well, do you have other plans?"

"Not really," Elizabeth said, shrugging her shoulders and brushing the hair from her eyes. "My friend Trisha usually goes home and Lucky is usually busy with his own family, so I never really do anything for Thanksgiving."

She felt compelled to look at the ground. Like her lack of familial relations somehow discredited her as a person. She wasn't going to dare mention that her grandmother always had an elaborate dinner with almost the entire General Hospital staff and never invited her granddaughter for fear she would act "inappropriately" and embarrass her.

"Well, see then, you have no excuse. I won't take no for an answer. You'll really be doing me a huge favor. What'll it be?"

"You've convinced me," she answered, a wide grin spreading from her lips and sparking into her eyes. The truth was, Sonny was doing _her_ the favor and they both knew it.

"Great. Well, Jason'll set you up with blankets and pillows and then we'll get out of your hair."

Her eyes flashed to Jason and her heart began to thud. "Oh, really, that won't be necessary. I'll just use these pillows and if I get cold, I'll just pull down the blanket from the back of the couch. I don't want you to go to any trouble."

"Elizabeth, it's really no trouble."

"Well, I'm just saying, by the time you waste your time finding pillows, I'll already be out cold, so there's really no point."

Sonny shook his head and let out a quiet chuckle. "Breakfast is going to be huge and forget taking it easy. If you can be that stubborn, so can I."

"I prefer tenacious," she joked and watched them leave the room.

Jason turned and looked at her for a brief moment before he rubbed his hand over his face and turned away.

Sonny started up the stairs and Jason followed after him.

Elizabeth waited until she could hear no more movement before she closed her eyes and settled in for the night.

* * *

Sonny settled into bed, his chest still slightly wheezy and his skin still a little hot, but overall he was feeling much better. He was sure that in the morning he would be back to normal. 

_From across the room, he eyed her and damn him if she didn't take his breath away. That bouncy hair. The magical sparkle in her eyes. The magnificent sound of her laughter as it hit his ears. He was one lucky man._

_"I'm sorry, Luke, but it looks like Brenda's getting a little lonely over there."_

_"It doesn't look that way to me," Luke chuckled, pouring another scotch into his friend's glass. "That boy of yours is getting big."_

_"Yeah, Brenda got him these walking shoes the other day. She'll stand him up and hold onto his hand and he'll hold himself there for a few minutes, just rocking a little, you know? but I tell you any day now and he's going to get right up and go. Champion runner that boy will be."_

_"He's a fine boy, Sonny. Must take after his mother." Luke laughed and slid the drink over the bar._

_"He must." Sonny smiled and winked at Brenda from across the room. "Listen, before Brenda comes snooping around again for her birthday present, do you think you could hold onto it for me."_

_"Yeah, sure. What'dya get her this time? More diamonds? Gold?"_

_"No, something better." _

_Sonny turned so his back faced Brenda and reached into his coat pocket and took out an envelope and passed it to Luke. Taking the envelope, Luke placed it under the bar._

_"With all that's been going on lately with business, the territory and everything else, I thought she deserved to get away for a while. In that envelope are tickets to Puerto Rico. She loves the islands and she wants Dominic to be safe. The thing is I was going to send her there anyway since things are really heating up, but I decided to go with them. I've missed so much time with Dominic already and like you said, he's growing so fast. I just... I don't want to miss anything."_

_"Sounds like a good plan to me, now you better get over there before Jasper Jacks decides he's not entirely over her."_

_"Jax is a putz. Although, if it weren't for him, we'd have never found our way back to each other, so I guess I should thank him."_

_"Like that'll ever happen," Luke scoffed, wiping down the counter._

_"You're a wise man. See you, Luke."_

_"Later."_

_Drink in hand Sonny strutted over to his wife, with a dimpled grin on his face._

_"How's my two favorite people in the whole world doing?"_

_"The whole world?" Brenda joked. Her laughter filled Sonny's ears like soft music. "We're fine, but he's getting a little fussy, I think he's hungry. I'm going to go out to the limo to feed him."_

_"What's wrong with right here?"_

_"I may not be shy, but I'm not going to open up my shirt in a room full of men. My modeling days are over and I really don't want an audience for this. Nope, Dominic and I are going to go and sit in the limo."_

_"Well, I think you've never looked more beautiful and when Dominic gets a little older, I'm sure if you wanted to, you could have a career again. But personally, I love having my very own hot mamma without all those obnoxious photographers and high-end make-up artists yelling at me not to smudge your make-up."_

_"Hot mamma?"_

_"Yeah." He laughed, moving his hand to the small of her back and then up again. "I heard some women over there whispering about how great you look. In fact, they were quite mad that you look as good as you do."_

_"Right, I'm just starting to get my figure back...well except for these." She laughed, shifting Dominic on her hip and indicating her breasts. "Not that you mind."_

_Sonny laughed, deep and throaty. "I'm not going to argue."_

_Dominic began to fuss even more, fisting his hands in Brenda's red dress and softly crying into her shoulder. "I really need to go feed him."_

_"We could just go home."_

_"Sonny, it's fine. You stay and enjoy the part. We'll be fine. Won't we?" she cooed._

_"Don't take too long, I get lonely without you," he said softly, kissing her lips lightly and rubbing Dominic's small back._

_"You won't even miss us," she joked, running her fingers through the back of his hair, where the curls flipped up near his ear. "I think you need a haircut."_

_"I need a lot of things Mrs. Corinthos and hopefully I'll get one of them tonight after Dom goes to bed," he drawled, treating her to a goofy, dimpled smile._

_"Sonny! Not in front of the b-a-b-y."_

_"Brenda, the b-a-b-y has no clue what we're talking about, trust me."_

_"Just remember, you'll be the one paying the therapy bills," she teased, grabbing the diaper bag and slinging it over her shoulder._

_Sonny watched right until the door closed and Brenda and Dominic were no longer in sight. Mingling with the various guests--a combination of his and Brenda's friends--he paid little attention to the conversations he was having. He was antsy for Brenda and Dominic to get back so he could finally give her the gift Luke had stored for him. It seemed like they'd been gone for a long time, but then to him, every time his wife and child weren't near him seemed like an eternity._

_The light fixtures flickered and the building cried. The sound of breaking glass and metallic being spewed alerted the entire bar that something was happening outside. Men rushed out the doors, leaving their drinks and party favors where they were._

_A dense fog of smoke covered the parking lot and dancing flames licked high into the night sky._

_The sound of one single piercing scream silenced the crowd. They stood, watched. Unable to do anything, they were paralyzed by the smoke and fire._

_Sonny moved through the crowd, aggressively pushing people out of his way. The smoke and debris clouded his eyes and the smell of fire and chemical exhaust permeated the air. Sparks flew at the gathered crowd and even when men tried to hold him back, Sonny moved forward._

_Finally busting through the crowd, he could see that there was nothing left, just an orange inferno where his limo was supposed to be. There was no sign of Brenda or his young son._

_"Brenda?!" he called, his eyes dulling to the grey smoke._

_"Sonny," Johnny warned, pressing his hand to his chest to hold him back. "There's nothing you can do."_

_"What? Nothing I can- No..." He beat his head with an open palm, whisking his fingers through his dark hair and stepped forward again._

_"Come on, come inside."_

_Stepping forward, he batted away Johnny's hand and not feeling the heat, he struggled toward the heart of the explosion. "Johnny, no! It's not Brenda! Tell me it's not Brenda. Dominic! Where's Dominic?!" Sonny pounded on the bodyguard's chest when he pulled him back._

_"Sonny, I'm sorry."_

_"No! Dammit, Johnny, where are they?!" Disbelief etched the lines of Sonny's soot-stained face._

_Eyes to the ground, Johnny shook his head. "They're gone, Sonny."_

_Fear and anger radiated from Sonny's dark brown eyes._

_"No!" _

_Kicking at the wooden supports of the entry way, his foot protested the endless strikes. He wouldn't have stopped had he not caught the glimmer of some object from the corner of his eye. Throwing off his suit jacket and beating back the flames with it, he crouched down and scooped up the half-charred rattle. It was still hot but he didn't feel the heat._

_"Dominic," he whispered so softly no one heard him and he wondered if he'd even said it aloud._

_"Come on, Sonny, sit down," Johnny persuaded, ushering him inside the club and toward the bar._

_"I-I..."_

_Putting a reassuring hand on Sonny's back, Johnny tried to push Sonny into a chair. _

_"Sit down. It's all right."_

_Sonny's eyes turned black. He paid no attention to the steady stream of moisture running down his face._

_"It's not all right. Nothing is ever going to be all right again." _

_"Calm me down? How the fuck do you expect me to be calm when my wife and child..." Sonny stopped, strained to see through his blurred vision and took a breath as if fully taking in what he was about to say, "my wife and child are dead." He held the rattle tight in his hand and refused to let it go._

_"Sonny."_

_"They're dead, God dammit! And it should have been me!" he yelled and hurled the glass of scotch at the wall. The crystal and ice cracked along the wall, bounced off the floor and then skidded to a stop near his foot. Picking up a shard he pressed it inside his palm, not feeling the pressure when his skin broke and his blood began to trail down his arm._

_"It should have been me!" he cried, collapsing onto the floor, blood and scotch covering his clothing and skin._

* * *

Sonny sat up, pupils dilated and sweat soaking through the light undershirt he wore. Looking around the room, he tried to regain focus, to wipe away the bad memories that had drenched his brain and caused his skin to break out in chills. He knew he had a fever. He could feel the heat and moisture radiating from his skin. But he was, as he always was, alone. His baby boy was still dead and his wife--his soft, gentle, beautiful wife--still dead, too. 

Stumbling out of bed, he reached for the brown, worn bathrobe he kept on the back of a desk chair and struggled into it.

Once upon a time, when the sun went down and the weather cooled off, Sonny used to sleep. Back then he didn't need sleeping pills to slumber. He could make it through an entire night without a nightmare. Once upon a time, when the rains came leading into summer and the grass grew tall and the taste of strawberries and chocolate filled a grown woman's palate, Sonny knew peace. Something as simple as canning tomatoes and the taste of sweet peaches ripe from the tree and if the weather would hold up another day, were careless worries. Once upon a time, when a new baby learned how to crawl and proud parents applauded every effort, when making love under the stars and stealing kisses in the morning was allowed, Sonny was happy.

Those days were gone.

What replaced them were vivid, fresh waves of the same scenario that he could never get out of his head. When he dreamed, everything seemed real. The adrenaline rushed through his system and his fingers and palms ached from cuts long scarred. His breath was never quite free and his lungs never quite filled, his head never stopped pounding and his heart never stopped hurting. And when he awoke he was still alone.

Always alone.

Dismally alone.

Gripping the handrail, he made it down each step, a little unsteady on his feet.

Sitting up, Elizabeth yawned a few times and wrapped the blanket around herself. Hearing movement on the stairs, she held her breath hoping it was Sonny and not Jason. She wasn't entirely sure what she would do if it was Jason, but if it was, she knew they wouldn't make it through the night without a kiss.

When she saw Sonny peek his head around the corner, her heart dropped back to a normal rate and she wiped her sweaty palms on the blanket.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Shaking his head, Sonny replied, "No. What are you doing up?"

Not sure whether she was happy it wasn't Jason or not, she shook her head. "I just woke up. I'm not sure why." She didn't think telling Sonny that she couldn't stop thinking about Jason was necessary information. "Now, you be honest and tell me why you're up this late."

"What do you mean?"

"You're not feeling well. I can see that you're still sick."

"Oh, yeah, I guess I'm not as good a faker as I thought."

Elizabeth eyed him skeptically. "Wait, there's something else. Sonny, what's wrong?"

"What makes you think something's wrong?"

"You have this look. It's the same look I saw when we were at the top of the hill...when we were at Brenda's..." She let her voice trail off when she saw that Sonny had that faraway look again. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Oh, I-I just don't sleep that much. I'm fine, really."

"I'm a good listener," she said quietly.

"I don't doubt that."

"Probably not as good as Jason, but I promise not to judge."

Nodding his head, Sonny motioned over his shoulder to the kitchen. "Why don't I make us some tea and we can talk?"

"Sure, tea sounds good."

* * *

He'd been seduced into her world of coppery paints and dull pencils. And now he couldn't sleep just thinking about the flecks of charcoal that sometimes hide under her nails or the splatter of paint he'd sometimes notice wound in her curly locks. He knew there would be no sleep when she was one floor under him. Hell, there would be no sleep just because she was in the same damn house as him, large as it was. 

After thinking it over, he could not find the moment, the exact time, when Elizabeth Webber stole something from him.

She'd taken his heart.

Took it without asking. Just plucked it from his chest without warning and now he had to live with the consequences.

He could do without money. That was never something that appealed to him. And he could do without words, but he didn't know what to do now that the sinking feeling had left his chest. Now that he could breathe again, what was he supposed to do?

He hadn't felt so alive in years. When was the last time he had to ride the cliff road, or punish himself with a brutal run? The answer escaped him, but he was pretty sure it hadn't been recently.

So what was he supposed to do with these new found feelings? As of late, all he was capable of was wrestling with his conscience. Tossing and turning, he was thinking about it so much.

On the one hand, he knew he should stay detached, but on the other, he didn't want to. For several years he'd been denying himself happiness and here was this woman who inspired him and frustrated him and confused him.

He wanted more.

More inspiration.

More confusion.

Hell, even more frustration.

Just more.

But what about his past? What about the fact that he was poison and that anyone that got near him seemed to get hurt? He knew it was a risk too great to take. She'd wind up hurt...or worse. And he'd wind up alone all over again.

Still, she was sleeping in a house that was foreign to her. It couldn't have been very comfortable on that old couch. He decided there was no harm in checking up on her.

Throwing the covers off of his lean body, Jason stepped off the bed and sauntered down the hall in the dark. He could hear voices coming from the living room. Jason stalled on the landing and listened.

"...and then what did you do?"

"I threw up all over my teacher's desk. I was so humiliated! For the rest of the year all the kids called me Bethie "barf-face" Webber. To this day, if I hear someone call me Beth or Bethie, I just want to curl up and hide!"

Elizabeth and Sonny laughed.

Taking a sip from his cup, Sonny was about to speak when he heard the floorboard creak and looked up to find Jason at the entryway to the room.

"Jason," Sonny said, motioning for him to come into the room.

Elizabeth's eyes went wide with embarrassment.

"Elizabeth and I were just having a late-night chat. Did you know she won her fourth grade spelling bee with the word elegiac? I don't even know what that means let alone how to spell it!"

Jason stood, dressed in little more than a pair of blue pajama bottoms worn so thin, she could see through them to the black boxer briefs he had on underneath. _Whoa!_ His mouth was firm and his jaw set. Neither male seemed to mind his present state of undress and she supposed if she tried to concentrate real hard, she could make it seem like it didn't affect her either. Squeezing her eyes tightly, and then blinking rapidly she tried to think of something to clear her mind of the dirty images that had set up camp.

"Come and sit down," Elizabeth said softly, motioning to the spot beside her on the couch.

Jason seemed to hesitate at first, but then padded to the couch and sat as far as he could from her. Any closer and he was afraid he just might give into any sudden impulses that might arise, especially if she didn't stop looking at him like that...like she _wanted_ him.

"Wow, what time is it? It must be late." Sonny yawned.

Elizabeth mimicked him. "I have no idea, but I'm about ready to drop." She avoided Jason's gaze at all costs and focused on her empty mug. "Maybe more tea would help. I'll just-"

"Oh, let me," Sonny said eagerly, standing with a new sort of bounce to his step.

Lifting her eyes to look at Jason, Elizabeth offered him a small smile. "Do you mind if I lay down?"

Shaking his head no, Jason watched her attempt to move without bumping her leg. He thought of helping, but that would involve touching her and he wasn't entirely sure he could handle that.

Elizabeth stretched out on the couch, her small foot just barely brushing Jason's thigh. Her head almost reached the end of the couch if not braced by a fluffy pillow. Yawning loudly, she covered her mouth and let out a murmured sorry from closed lids. Hard as she tried to keep her eyes open, there was no stopping the droop of her dark lashes against her clean, milky cheek.

Jason watched while she fought the sleep she seemed to need desperately and a small smile played on his full lips. Twisting to get more comfortable her arm fell to the floor and her tiny hand splayed into the minute fibers of the carpet. Her lips twitched slightly and then her chest rose and fell with the momentum from her heavy breaths.

She was asleep.

Standing, Jason took a few tentative steps closer and reached for the quilt that had been abandoned on the floor. He spread the blanket over her body, frowning slightly at how little room she took up. Kneeling, he scanned the room once over and then back again before he lifted his hand to her cheek and ran a finger over the scratches on her face. Leaning over her, he gave one last look around, just to be sure Sonny was still in the kitchen, and with gentleness that would break any woman's heart he kissed away the small crease in her forehead. She let out a small sigh and burrowed further into the cushions.

God help him, he couldn't imagine another day without her.

Settling himself in a comfortable chair, he turned it until it faced her and then he relaxed into it and stretched out his feet. Crossing his arms over his broad, bare chest, he barely paid notice when Sonny walked by with a triumphant smile on his face and kept going up the stairs without a word.


	10. Chapter 10

Title: Remembering Tibet  
Author: Kat/Yuppiekat  
Rating: R  
Disclaimer: I don't own...well, anything pertaining to GH.  
Summary: This is an Alternate Universe fic. (And, possibly, a strange one at that.)-- The past haunts Jason and Elizabeth. In order to heal, they'll need each other.  
Notes: There are a few things that you should know about this fic... This fic was started (I believe) in 2002, but time constraints and frustration about the show stalled the writing of this fic. I am in the middle of re-reading and revising all the chapters. I'm not sure how often I can post. I wish I had more time to work on this, but you'll have to settle for a sporadic posting schedule. The character of Lucky is, well, very out of character. I'm aware of that. There is also a lot of head hopping in this fic... Um, sorry about that.

* * *

The smell of grease and stale coffee clung to her skin, reminding her for the umpteenth time that being a waitress sucked. But it paid the bills. And that was what was important. She was certainly not going to cash any of her father's checks or take any of her grandmother's pity money. Besides, she'd learned to live with the smell. Not that it was an easy smell to get rid of either. She had tried. Oh, how she had tried! But there wasn't much she could do to remove it. Not at work, anyway. There was always another burger to be fried up or plate of fries to be served and the coffee didn't stop brewing until the closed sign was flipped over for the night. Really, it was pointless anyway. There were still many hours to go before she could rush home and try to salvage her skin under the spray of a hot shower and bottle of essential oils. Cold cream was a godsend in situations like this. 

So it wasn't a surprise that Elizabeth was only three hours into her shift and already antsy to leave. There was just something so anticlimactic about the day. Falling asleep last night, she'd felt so comfortable and protected and this morning she'd woken up feeling like she was soaring high above the clouds. And now, facing a mound of dishes and never-ending customers, she didn't know what had made her think she could ever be that free.

She observed the few customers that still lingered from the breakfast rush. In the corner was a middle-aged man decked out in cowboy boots and a leather vest. The tall Stetson he'd first walked in with sat on the chair beside him keeping him company. The tassels hung down and a small broken feather swayed when she walked by. The man was on the road and though he looked gruff, he was actually kind of sweet. He kept insisting on calling her Ma'am, even though she was half his age. When she'd dropped a canister of sugar, he'd even gallantly offered to help her clean the mess. Chivalry was, in fact, not dead after all.

Then there was Mrs. Greenwood, an old widower and the resident town gossip. Mrs. Greenwood came in five times a week, always for breakfast and always alone. She seemed content to be alone while she ate her toast and sampled her juice. She was always polite and Elizabeth didn't mind answering her ample questions about anything and everything. They had a sort of understanding, Mrs. Greenwood wouldn't ask about Elizabeth's personal life and Elizabeth--knowing that Mrs. Greenwood was on a fixed income--wouldn't take any payment for her meal.

The lady was harmless, really. The biggest news day usually entailed a new visitor in town or some scandalous affair and the poor offspring, just the usual mix of things that her and her tea party friends could discuss over arts and crafts.

The cowboy in the corner paid no mind to Mrs. Greenwood either, even though she'd been staring at him for the past half-an-hour.

A few rowdy children chased each other around, while their _very_ pregnant mother sipped her herbal tea and rubbed her tired back. The woman looked a few years older than Liz. Her hair was stringy and her clothes, while not brand new weren't particularly ratty and despite the dark circles under her eyes, she'd given Elizabeth a smile and apologized for her wild little ones. Elizabeth had smiled back and told her she didn't mind.

And she didn't. She liked the noise and the excitement. She liked the innocence and uncompromising joy that flitted in their eyes. She wished she could get that excitement and innocence down on canvas. She wished she could get _anything_ down on canvas! She had her sketches, landscapes and the buildings around the monastery. And they were okay. But they weren't… They didn't say anything. They didn't _mean_ anything. They were just pictures. Just drawings.

And then there were the sketches that she couldn't even bring herself to look at in public. Those were the ones she'd drawn of Jason. She knew there was more there on the paper than just a portrait.

Pulling out her sketchbook from under the counter, she took a moment to roughly sketch the cowboy, the children, and the beautiful swell of the pregnant woman's belly.

Taking that moment for herself, she realized she'd been touching her own stomach, imagining how she would look if she were pregnant. The thought absolutely terrified her, because she wasn't just imagining her baby. She was imagining_ their_ baby. Jason and hers.

It was crazy. She barely knew him. She hadn't even heard him speak! She was going through that quarter-life crisis thing that everyone was always talking about these days. She just knew it.

The clang of the bell above the door alerted her there was yet another customer to attend to. Thankful for the distraction, Elizabeth regained her composure, tossing the sketchbook back in the cubby under the counter and cleared off the tables.

"Liz," called a recognizable voice.

Elizabeth spared a quick glance before she darted into the kitchen. "Hey, Trisha."

Trisha followed closely behind. "I phoned you last night. Don't you check your messages?"

"I-I, uh, never made it home last night." Biting her lip, Elizabeth buttered some bread without looking up.

"Shut up!" Trisha squealed excitedly. "Did you and Jason, you know...hook up?"

"Is that all you ever think about?"

"Pretty much," she answered absently.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and finally looked directly at her friend.

Gripping Elizabeth's chin, Trisha studied the younger girl with horror. "What the hell happened to your face?"

She touched her face, running her index finger over the lines that yesterday had been oozing with her own blood. "Oh man, I thought the make-up covered the scratches. It's nothing. I fell in the woods."

Trisha looked at Elizabeth skeptically. "You _fell_ in the woods?"

"Yeah, it's no big deal. You know me, as clumsy as a bull in a china shop, always falling and banging into things," Elizabeth remarked absently, scuttling around the kitchen in search of the cold meat and cheese.

Trisha studied her.

Elizabeth tried to maintain a clean glide to the refrigerator.

Trisha didn't miss when Liz faltered, relying heavily on one leg and not putting much weight on the other. "Some fall. And look at you! You're limping!"

Bouncing over to her best friend like a little schoolgirl, Trisha took Elizabeth's elbow and turned her around. "Leave this for a minute and come sit with me. We'll talk."

Again, running her slender fingers over the small scratches on her skin, Elizabeth moved stray strands of hair from her face and finally managed to meet the other woman's eye. "I have to make these sandwiches before it gets too crowded."

"The sandwiches can wait a few minutes. Come on, take your break. Sit with me."

She set the food back in the fridge. Arguing with Trisha never got her anywhere but prolonging the inevitable. "Fine. Just for a few minutes, though, okay? The lunch rush will be coming in soon."

"Sure. I can't stay anyway. My mom's sending Travis down to pick me up and you know my brother, if I'm not ready when he comes, he'll leave without me. I hate the holidays! I swear, Liz, you're so lucky you don't have to do any of this holiday crap."

Following Trisha into the hub of the diner, Elizabeth allowed herself to ease down onto a chair, her leg throbbing and thankful for the release. Chewing on her lip, she straightened her apron before looking up. "Actually, Sonny invited me to Thanksgiving dinner."

Trisha's eyes lit up and a knowing smile crossed her face. "That's great! So why do you sound so upset about it?"

"I'm not upset. Not really."

"Then what's wrong?"

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders. "It's just that... Jason'll be there."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"No. No, it's just... I'm really starting to care for him, you know?"

"Okay, Liz, you're really confusing me," Trisha said, taking Elizabeth's hand. "I thought you'd be glad to spend time with him. I know you're into him. You've admitted as much. Remember coming to me for advice about the whole seducing him thing? So, what's going on? And don't tell me nothing because I can read you like a book."

"I want to see him... I do. Really. I'm always happy when I'm with him. It's just that I screw up every relationship I've ever been in…not that there have been a whole lot," she said, beating Trisha to the punch. "It's just…I-I don't want to do that with Jason. I've never known anyone like him. Like when I fell and he was just there, taking care of me." She felt Trisha squeeze her hand and despite her best efforts, her eyes welled with tears. "He was just so gentle. I didn't know a man could be like that."

"Well, your track record hasn't been the best," Trisha said softly.

Wiping at her eyes with the bottom of her apron, Elizabeth's eyes widened. "Can I tell you something and you promise not to laugh?"

Trisha sat up in the chair and leaned in toward Elizabeth. "Yeah, I'd like to hear it."

Elizabeth took a deep breath. "Sometimes when I'm with him… It's just like…well, it's like… Have you ever had one of those moments when everything just _felt _right? When Jason's around…it's like everything comes into focus. Something happens to me that I can't put into words. My insides get warm and I-I don't know…all of a sudden everything that I normally worry about is gone. Things that I think are impossible seem almost within reach—like I could do anything. Just for those few seconds everything is perfect." Elizabeth tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and looked around nervously before continuing. "When I fell asleep last night, I had this overwhelming sense that I was safe. I can't remember the last time I felt so protected like that. I think it was Jason. I feel safe with him in a way I never really have before. That's so stupid, isn't it?" she said shakily. "How can anyone--a practical stranger, no less--make a person feel all that? I don't even know what I'm saying… I guess I'm just waiting for something bad to happen. That sounds dumb, doesn't it?"

Scooting her chair closer, Trisha pulled Elizabeth into a hug.

Elizabeth pulled back from the hug and trained her eyes on the grease smudges on the menu in front of her.

"Don't think like that," Trisha soothed. "It's not dumb to want, Elizabeth. It's never dumb to let yourself feel, okay? Now, can I ask you something without you getting mad?"

"You can try."

"Are you… Do you think maybe you're putting too much pressure on yourself?"

"No. I mean, I don't think so. Wait, what do you mean exactly?" she asked, confused.

"I mean, do you think you're making excuses so you can push Jason away and just, you know, continue to close yourself off from the world."

"First of all, I do not close myself off from the world," Elizabeth said.

"You said you wouldn't get mad," Trisha reminded her.

"And I'm not. I'm merely stating a fact. I'm not making excuses. It's just… Everything seems so perfect right now. I just know it's all going to blow up in my face," Elizabeth admitted, defeat dripping from her words.

"One day you're going to have to take a chance on something. Why not now? Why not on Jason?"

"Because…because I guess I'm…scared."

"Of what?"

"That I'm reading too much into this. That…whatever feelings I may be having are one-sided. That Jason still sees me as this annoying gnat that he wants nothing to do with."

"I highly doubt any of that is true."

"But what if it is? What if he just tolerates me for Sonny's sake?"

"You said he took care of you, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So, if he didn't care, not even a little bit, do you think he would have helped you?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Jason's one of the good guys. I think he'd probably even help a mortal enemy."

"You're not making this easy."

"Because it's not. It's just…it's not. Look, I didn't mean for this to become some heavy discussion," she said, sighing.

"Okay, fine. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I am."

"Okay. And, hey, I hope you know that whenever you _do_ feel like getting into a "heavy discussion" I'm up for it," she said, straining for eye contact. "Don't hesitate to call me. Okay?"

"Okay. Look, I better get back to work."

"Are you going to be alright?" Trisha's eyes were warm with concern.

"I'll be fine. Now go and have fun." Elizabeth waved her off and watched as she left the restaurant before she turned to go back to the kitchen.

* * *

As soon as the lunch rush was over, Elizabeth took a seat and stretched out her tired leg. Momentarily closing her eyes, she was startled when she heard her name. Opening one eye first and then the other, she made out the shape of Paul Callahan. He wasn't accompanied by his regular crew and except for the cook in the back, they were alone. 

"Hey, Paul," Elizabeth said, slowly making her way to her feet.

Paul towered above her. "So, Lizzie, how's that boyfriend of yours?"

She blushed remembering the lie. "He's fine."

Making her way to the counter, she tried her best not to limp or show the pain she was in. When she turned around, Paul was already seated at the counter on one of the stools. She picked up a dish and began drying it.

"How'd you say you met him again?"

She stopped moving. The cup she was in the process of drying dangled from her fingers.

Feeling his gaze, she snapped out of it and casually looked his way. "Lucky knew him from his summer job, when he worked at the garage."

"Wait, I thought you said Trisha introduced you," Paul asked, scratching at his stubbly chin.

"Well, she did." Elizabeth bit her lip guiltily. "See, Lucky introduced Trisha to Jason and then she introduced him to me and the rest is history."

"Still, I think you could do a lot better. The guy was seriously lacking in social skills," Paul snorted, thinking himself clever.

Elizabeth allowed a small smile to cross her lips. "Jason doesn't say things just to be polite."

"Yeah, I'm sure he doesn't," he huffed.

"It's kind of refreshing actually. So, can I get you anything?"

"Just some coffee. Make it to go."

"Right away," she said, motioning to get a Styrofoam cup, but then she stopped and faced him. "It was...it was nice talking to you, Paul, and I'm sorry things didn't work out between us."

Paul nodded his head. "Yeah, yeah... Me, too."

Elizabeth thought she saw regret flicker in his eyes. "Right, well, I'll just get your order and be right back."

"Sure."

Elizabeth filled the cup with coffee and handled it over to him, accepting his dollar bill and the change as tip. She only shuddered a little when their hands touched, but for the rest of the day, she had an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach.

* * *

Sonny paced back and forth, back and forth. Ducking into the dinning room, he made sure everything was in order. The table was set in orange and brown linens, festive for the holiday occasion. In the corner was a turkey composed from paper and ribbon. Brenda had picked it up at a craft show, years before, and it always added something special to the room. Not that he had ever felt that it was aesthetically appealing. The thing was hideous. He's teased her about it for weeks and weeks. But she loved it and didn't mind his taunts because she wasn't one to get upset about being different. It came out for the holiday because, in a sense, he could feel her more closely. Could, on some level, pretend she was still with him. Everyone knew it and maybe that's why he kept it around...as a reminder of a life that seemed a hundred years ago. There was also the sentimental side of him that just wouldn't allow him to part with it. 

If he closed his eyes and didn't let any sound in, he could almost hear her, see her. Sometimes he imagined it was their house and they'd have half-a-dozen children running around, Dominic included. The house would be chaos: tons of guests, plenty of food and laughter. So much laughter, he could cry from the joy it would have brought him. And he imagined he might have trusted Brenda to cook the turkey after begging for weeks to be allowed into his inner sanctum, the kitchen. That when the smoke alarm would sound and the turkey would be served burned, it would be the best tasting thing in the world because it would have been made by his wife and she would be alive. He would be able to touch her and hear her and love her more than power and money.

And his child, Dominic, would drag him out onto the front lawn to throw around the football and they'd play until the sun went down and their fingers felt frozen. In his head, it was the only thing that kept him going. He lived on thoughts and fantasies, because that's all he had.

For a moment, he stood still, composing himself, before he went over the checklist one more time.

In the centre of the table was a cornucopia filled with tiny gourds, colored Indian corn and squash. The napkins were neatly folded and the utensils were all perfectly arranged. Sonny was a little anal about presentation and wouldn't allow anyone into the room until dinner.

Max arrived a little before everyone else. Not for dinner, but to discuss the current situation with Edward Quartermaine. Sonny ushered him into the living room and gave him a run down of things to do that day to ensure the property was secure.

"Look, Elizabeth will be here any minute, but I wanted to go over some things before she gets here."

"Sure," Max said.

"There was someone in the woods yesterday watching Elizabeth. Now, she thought she had imagined it, but if I know Edward Quartermaine like I think I do, I know she wasn't alone."

"So what can we do about it?"

"I want Craig and Tony to survey the area everyday. Run spot checks at the gate and get Roger to tail Quartermaine. Miss Webber was hurt and I don't want it to ever happen again."

"Is she alright?"

"She's fine. Jason took care of her, but it shouldn't have happened. Quartermaine's got something up his sleeve and I don't get a good feeling about it."

"Don't worry, Mr. Corinthos, we'll take care of everything."

"I know you will."

The knock on the door was followed by heavy footsteps belonging to Johnny and Francis.

Johnny took off his coat, collecting Francis' as well and setting them down over one of the kitchen chairs.

"Anyone home?"

"In the living room," Sonny called out.

Max met them half way.

"You look ridiculous! What is that, a dress?" Francis said to Max, elbowing Johnny.

"Shut up, Frankie. You're lucky I'm wearing this otherwise I'd kick your ass."

Francis scoffed. "Right, like you could."

"Don't tempt me," Max muttered under his breath.

Elizabeth knocked softly before opening the screen door, surprised to find the front door open and the two bodyguards, Sonny, and Max standing around the living room.

Jason was noticeably absent.

"Am I late?"

"Oh, no. Elizabeth, come on in."

"Elizabeth." Johnny tilted his head to the side and gave her a big, warm smile.

"Hey, Johnny," Elizabeth said, putting down the plastic container she'd brought. "Francis. Father Max."

"Hey, Elizabeth," Francis said softly, his cheeks reddening.

"Do I get a thanksgiving hug?"

Francis and Johnny practically tripped over themselves to fold themselves into her outstretched arms. Whoever said chivalry was dead had not spent time in Port Charles. Hugging Johnny and then Francis, Elizabeth took a deep breath and smelt the faint aroma of cigarettes. The smell was vaguely familiar.

"Francis, I didn't know you smoked."

Francis scratched the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes. "It's a bad habit, I know."

Elizabeth took another deep breath. She could remember being wrapped up in her grandfather's arms. He had a strong chin and a thick neck that she used to bury her curled hair against. He had this smell on him from the tobacco in the cigarettes he kept in his shirt pocket. She remembered his big hands holding onto the smaller cigarette and the smell of it.

"Marlboro," she said absently.

"Yeah." He blushed.

"You should quit." Closing her eyes, she shook her head. "Ugh, listen to me telling you what to do! It's an old habit. I used to pester my grandpa all the time. He used to smoke Marlboro, too. I can pick out the smell of them anywhere. It's actually kind of... comforting. It takes me back to a time when life was simple. You know, when the Marlboro man was a symbol of what a real men were supposed to be…all rugged and strong…or whatever it is they used to say in those adds."

"Frankie is nothing like the Marlboro man, he just thinks he is," Johnny joked, ignoring the looks from his fellow bodyguard.

"Yeah, well, Johnny--"

Sonny cleared his throat and gave the guards pointed looks.

Francis didn't finish what he was going to say.

"Why don't we go into the living room and I'll bring us some refreshments," Sonny offered.

"That sounds good," Elizabeth said following the guards.

She turned when she realized Max was still rooted in place.

"Father Max, are you going to join us?"

"Oh, I-I...don't want to intrude, but I mean...if you want me to stay..."

"I think that's a yes," Johnny laughed.

Elizabeth slipped her hand through the crook of Max's arm and walked with him through the archway into the living room.

Seated comfortably between Max and Johnny on the couch, Elizabeth sipped tea and ate crackers and cheese to settle her growling stomach.

When Sonny finally settled, she got his attention. "Where's Jason?"

Sonny swallowed his wine and turned his attention on her. "He's in the greenhouse getting some tomatoes for the salad."

Elizabeth was surprised. "Oh, I didn't even know there was a greenhouse!"

Both guards and even Max seemed amused by her innocent statement and barely contained their laughter.

Francis tried his best to stop laughing and coughed to clear his throat. "Sonny likes to have fresh produce all year round."

"He doesn't trust supermarkets. Thinks they freeze their food and don't allow their fruits and vegetables to properly ripen."

"He's a little neurotic about it," Francis stated, rolling his eyes.

"Tell me about it!"

"Freshness is very important," Sonny defended. "If you two have had enough... Besides it's a small greenhouse and I only grow what I can't get in season."

"Sure."

"Right, but that thing was a bi-" Johnny stopped when he caught Sonny's eye and cleared his throat, pulling on his tie that was suddenly choking him. "I mean, it was hard to build," Johnny corrected.

"Like you did any work," Francis scoffed. "I worked twice the hours you did on that freaking thing! I had blisters the size of—"

"Barking orders doesn't count as work, Frankie-poo."

"Bite me. I guess it wasn't all that bad. It did make my biceps huge from all the lifting and carrying."

"Oh, you wish! The only muscle you were working was your fat mouth."

"I wouldn't talk, Johnny."

Sidestepping toward Elizabeth, Francis picked up her tiny hand and placed it on his upper arm, then flexed. "See."

"Very impressive," Elizabeth said, amused.

"That's nothing," Johnny countered, flexing his own muscle. "Here, feel this."

Elizabeth smirked and moved toward Johnny, humoring him.

"Elizabeth, you don't need to listen to these two. I think that's enough bravado for one day, guys. Besides you both know Jason did a heck of a lot more work than the two of you combined."

As if he had a radar device to detect when anyone said his name, Jason stepped into the house. Elizabeth had to concentrate not to stare directly at him. Who knew a simple white t-shirt could be that sexy? She surely had never thought about it. Not until she watched him through veiled eyes and noticed how the material clung to his well-built chest and accentuated his broad shoulders and muscled back.

Everything about him was strong and male. Especially the way he seemed to glide and the even cadence of his breathing. He carried the bushel of fruits and vegetables with ease while his forearms strained and his bright blue veins flexed, even though it must have be heavy.

En route to the kitchen, Jason barely looked up, but he did manage to catch Elizabeth's eye and give her a small smile.

She tried not to show her disappointment when he ran upstairs to grab a quick shower and change of clothes. Then her mind went elsewhere and she imagined how glorious he would look all wet and soapy. She had to bite her lip hard to get the thought to leave her.

When he finally came down to join them, they were already seated at the table. Jason sat next to her, his hair still wet and his skin still damp enough for the hairs on his forearm to stick.

After Sonny said grace, Elizabeth looked up and studied the men in the room. All of them were honest and endearing in their own way, and all of them extruded their best efforts to make her feel welcome and a part of something special.

When tears collected in her eyes, her first response was to bend her head and wipe them away before anyone saw. Just when she lifted her head, her eyes met with Jason's and a very sincere, comforting smile lit his face. She smiled back and cleared her throat. "If you all don't mind, I have something to say before we eat."

The guards, Sonny and Max, turned their attention to her and she could still feel Jason beside her with those kind eyes offering her support.

"I wanted to say... Well, what I wanted to say was thank you. I know thanksgiving is a time for thanks and I never really had a reason to feel good about this holiday, but today...being here, has changed all that. So, thank you."

Max and the guards smiled at her and Sonny squeezed her hand. Jason was less obvious in his approval and when no one was watching, he lightly brushed her shoulder.

Sometimes on days likes these, in moments where everything seemed serene, she couldn't help but feel her mother's presence. She knew somewhere, somehow, she was looking down at her and laughing alongside her and crying in her heart to be near her too.

After dessert--brownies Elizabeth made--everyone sat around feeling like beached whales.

"Sonny, you should really open a restaurant. You'd make a fortune."

"I really don't have any use for money. Besides, I like it here... It's peaceful." Sonny looked out the window, distraction making his eyes go blank.

Elizabeth shook her head. "Yeah, but just think of all those poor, unfortunate people who will never get to taste the brilliant way you cook food."

"It's something to think about," Sonny said quietly.

_Brenda wrapped her arms around Sonny's neck and smiled down at him. _

_"Can you even imagine, Sonny? All those people eating your food. I bet the critics would be blown away."_

_"Let's not get ahead of ourselves."_

_Sonny laughed, bringing Brenda onto his lap from his place on the sofa._

_"I can see it now. People will have to make reservations years in advance!"_

_"Years?" he asked amused._

_"It happens!"_

_"Where?"_

_"In New York. Anyway, you're missing the point. This could be a good thing for us. When Dominic gets older, he can work as a waiter and have all the girls flirting with him... Wait, I don't think I like that idea. He'll have to be the busboy, less chance of some hussy stealing my baby that way."_

_"He's not going to be your baby forever you know."_

_"I know. Believe me I know. So, what do you want to call it?"_

_"Shouldn't we find a place before we start naming a restaurant that doesn't even exist yet?"_

_"Technicalities!" she mused, nuzzling into his neck and pecking his flesh._

_"I'll show you technicalities." Sonny laughed, laying Brenda down on the couch and stretching out over her, kissing her passionately._

"I-I'll be right back," Sonny said, standing.

Elizabeth surveyed the room, seeing very somber faces. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, sweetheart, you didn't do anything wrong," Johnny reassured her. "I'll go check on him."

"Why didn't I just do what you wanted?" Sonny mumbled to himself. He leaned against the counter for support.

Moving toward the kitchen, Johnny found Sonny taking a few deep breathes. "Sonny?"

Sonny spun around and faced the guard.

"Sorry if I startled you."

"You didn't."

Johnny cleared his throat. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Sonny assured him. "I guess we should start the decorating. Do you mind doing the popcorn?"

"Not at all."

Johnny stalked over to the cupboards and pulled out a jar of corn kernels. "Sonny, you sure everything is alright?"

"Positive."

Sonny took his time on the way back to the living room. He stopped in the hallway to rest his head on the wall. The memory was unexpected and took him for a loop. Death is not glamorous—no matter how they portray it in big Hollywood movies--it still remains as always, final and ugly. Straightening his clothes, he pulled himself together. By the time he got back to the living room, his mood was better.

Sonny directed his attention to the boxes in the corner. "Jason, you've got light duty. Francis is on ornaments. Johnny is popping the popcorn and Max--I mean, Father Max and Elizabeth can start helping me put the tree together."

Everyone but Elizabeth stood and started emptying boxes and pulling out ornaments and lights.

"What the heck is going on?"

"It's tradition. After every thanksgiving dinner, we put up the Christmas tree."

Elizabeth smiled. "Oh, and the popcorn? Is that to eat or string?"

"A little of both," Francis replied.

Looking around the room, Elizabeth felt an overwhelming sense of pride stir inside her. It felt good to get into the Christmas spirit and even better to have good friends to share it with. She was never one to be big on traditions, but she felt that beginning to change.

Elizabeth watched Sonny pull pieces to a plastic Christmas tree out of a box.

"That's the Christmas tree?" Elizabeth asked with a slight snort.

"I've tried to get a real one for years, but Jason won't have it. He thinks the trees look better in the woods and doesn't like putting this one together, but does it for my benefit. Right, Jase?"

Elizabeth bit back a laugh. "Where are the instructions?"

"What would we need those for?" Sonny questioned, completely serious.

Elizabeth stifled a laugh. "Oh, I don't know, maybe to put the tree together _right_, so that it won't come toppling down just as we finish with the last ornament."

"Nah, we'll be all right. Besides we threw out the instructions years ago. We just improvise now. What'd you think, Jason, is it time for the duct tape?"

"Duct tape?! You can't be serious."

Jason searched through a box of ornaments and pulled the shiny gray roll out, wagging it around ever-so-proudly.

When it was all put together it _looked_ like a Christmas tree, but to say that it was a pathetic looking tree was being quite kind.

Francis walked over to Elizabeth and passed her a mound of newspaper.

"I think Elizabeth should put up the angel this year."

"Oh no, really..."

"That's a very good idea, Francis. Elizabeth, would you mind?"

"Mind? Not at all." Elizabeth unraveled the newspaper to reveal a very fragile looking tree topper angel. "It's beautiful."

"My wife picked it out," Sonny said softly. "Let me get you a stool so you can reach."

Going into the kitchen, Sonny came back moments later with a small stepladder and put it down in front of the tree.

Stepping onto the ladder and reaching high, Elizabeth could still not get to the top of the tree. Her leg was still giving her trouble and every time she tried to stand on her tip toes, the ache increased.

"Someone else will have to do it," she said, stepping down, holding out the angel to Sonny, masking her disappointment.

"Nonsense. Jason will lift you up."

Elizabeth's spun around to connect eyes with Jason. She was surprised to find him so close. His face was just as red as hers, but it didn't stop him from taking hold of her waist and gingerly lifting her up. She could feel the heat of his fingers seeping into her skin and it felt wonderful. Surprised at first, Elizabeth regained her focus and placed the pretty blonde angel on top of the tree, setting it so it stood perfectly centered. Jason released her immediately and backed away.

Neither Jason nor Elizabeth noticed the amused faces of the guards, faux-priest Max or Sonny.

She excused herself to go to the bathroom. When she got there her face was hot and her body tingling from where Jason had touched her. She doused her face with water before she made her way back to the festivities.

Elizabeth laughed when she walked into the living room and had to navigate her way through the mass of decorations and lights.

"Johnny, have you picked up the decorations for the Christmas party?" Sonny asked with a wide grin and a twinkle in his eye.

"Whoa, Christmas party? Here?" Elizabeth cleared a path for herself and straightened some of the ornaments on the tree.

"Every year we throw a huge Christmas party in the church basement for the entire town. It's the one time of year where the priests let loose and the parishioners come and enjoy themselves. It's all for a good cause--to help the orphanage."

"You'll be coming, won't you?" Francis asked. His eyes were wide with anticipation.

"I don't know."

Johnny put his hand on her shoulder and leaned down a little, speaking gently. "Elizabeth, you have to! There'll be music and dancing and, frankly, I'd be hurt if you didn't at least show up for a little while."

"Okay, I'll be there."

"Great!" The men chanted.

"Sonny, we're going to take off. Francis and I have some business to attend to."

"I should go, too," Max said.

"I'll walk you back," Sonny offered and followed the guards and Max to the door. "I'll just be a minute," he told Elizabeth and Jason.

* * *

Jason sat on the couch untangling a twisted mess of bulbs. His hair was a mess and she couldn't help but smile warmly at the tiny strand of tinsel that had embedded itself amongst the dirty blonde locks. 

"That's a good look for you," she said cheerily and dug the silver string from his hair, holding it up so he could see it.

He blushed and she found her heart beginning to race when he looked up at her and smiled a slow crooked smile.

"There must be some way to communicate with you, because, frankly, I'm getting tired of the whole shrugging your shoulders thing. You know we can't really get to know each other without speaking, it feels too...second grade."

Elizabeth took a sip of herbal tea Sonny had brought out a few minutes ago, before she spoke again. "I mean, I'm not going to ask you just to start talking, unless--hmm...is that totally out of the question?"

Jason looked up at her with a sad, soft smile.

With the warm tang of lemon still on her tongue, she closed her eyes and imagined what he would taste like. Would he be cotton candy sweet? Or was he more of a savory, hot blend of spices? Whatever the case, she was sure he knew how to kiss. She was sure he would know what to do to have her weak and drowning in him. She was sure he knew how to do a lot of things. But mostly, she was sure she should stop thinking about it.

"Right. Forget I asked. Who am I to make you break your vow, or whatever, anyway?" She laughed nervously and stood up, moving toward the mantle. The glass from picture frames glinted in the falling sun and one that Elizabeth had never really noticed before caught her eye. Picking it up, she studied it. Her back facing Jason, she took in the big bright eyes of a boy that couldn't have been older than four. The child's hair was a mess of sun-bleached blonde and his skin was tanned golden. His tiny hands clutched a brown teddy bear to his chest.

It was a young Jason.

Elizabeth smiled and turned toward him. "This is you."

Standing, Jason came up behind her and she could feel the heat of him soaking through his shirt and pressing into her back.

She traced the lines of his face. On some level she wished he'd allow her to do the same to him now without backing away.

The timbre of her voice was warm and soothing. "It's a nice picture. You look happy."

His hand bumped hers when he took hold of the frame. She couldn't stop the chill that went through her. She felt a sense of unease. It wasn't like when Paul had touched her earlier. It was different. _Very_ different. It was like a thousand different switches turned on and a colossal, colorful wheel began spinning her around and around; the vibrant reds and blues and oranges pinned to her heart, shaking everything she thought she knew, so she couldn't regain her balance. It was the most exhilarating feeling she'd ever had.

His skin was dry and rough. It wasn't the first time she'd noticed. At the height of winter, she could only imagine how uncomfortable it was for him. It didn't bother her. She liked the different texture of his skin. But unconsciously, on one of the many days she was thinking about him, she had stuffed a tube of her favorite hand cream into her purse.

Jason replaced the picture on the mantle and for a few long seconds, he closed his eyes. When he opened them, she was looking at him and those soulful eyes were staring into him.

"Wait right here." She brushed past him, picking through her purse until she produced the cream.

Jason hadn't moved and a small smile of satisfaction lit her features. "Okay. Give me your hand."

He raised his eyebrows.

"What? Don't you trust me?"

He eyed her skeptically before he offered up his right hand.

Elizabeth squeezed a dime sized portion onto his much larger hand. Setting the container on the mantle, she took both of her hands and began to rub the cream into his hand, sliding it between his fingers, over his palm and thumb and the backside of his hand.

She looked up and laughed at the repulsed expression on his face. "Relax, it's just hand cream. It doesn't mean… I'm not going to suggest a spa day or anything. Although, you _could_ use a manicure."

Jason smiled.

"There. Now doesn't that feel better? Other hand, please."

Jason offered his left hand.

Elizabeth again squeezed some cream onto his hand. But something was different. Somehow the actions seemed more charged, more intimate. Her hands slid over his deliberately. "You have—you have nice hands." She cleared her throat. "Artistically speaking… Hands are one of the hardest things to sketch. Everyone's hands are different. I mean, obviously. But your hands… I'd like to sketch them sometime—with your permission, of course."

Jason watched her closely. Elizabeth was one of those old souls his uncle had tried to explain to him about. She gave herself away by the expressive grey-blue eyes and the curl of her lip when she found it right to talk and talk...and talk. Though she didn't speak in riddles, there was something puzzling, endearing, about the way she rambled and self-consciously tugged her hair behind her ear. She believed in life and love and happiness, but didn't think they were in her limits to possess. He knew differently. From the day he met her, he recognized that sadness that comes from a hard life, a daily struggle, and knew if anyone deserved to be happy it was her. There was no one else he'd ever met more deserving of love or affection and there was something that drew him to her. Something that made him want to shelter her and hold her like she needed…like he needed, too.

He just needed to swallow his guilt. He needed to forget the millions of tiny sensors that sounded in his brain every time he let her in. He needed to forget of all the potential for disaster and think of what it would really feel like to be happy.

Elizabeth swallowed hard. The way Jason was looking at her… God, she felt lightheaded. "There," she said, releasing his hand. "I-I'd leave it here for you…the cream, I mean. But I know you wouldn't use it. I don't think you want to smell like cherry blossoms all the time…or anything quite so girly. I don't need you to talk to tell me that."

Everything was slow, and though she remained motionless, the pound of her heart made her feel dizzy.

Jason had decided a long time ago that people relied on words too much. And that people used a lot of words to say very little. But he and Elizabeth? They didn't need words. He didn't have to speak to tell her how he felt.

Tentatively, shyly, he brought his hand to her cheek, smoothing down the lines of the fine scratches that ran the length of her cheeks. His palm curved against her, lightly brushing his thumb against her ear and reflexively she leaned into his caress.

Lifting her hand from her side, she mimicked his actions and ran a smooth hand down his face.

He closed his eyes instinctively.

Her fingers worked through his hair, stopping only when her fingers met the raised scar on his head. She hesitated before tracing the shape with one long stroke and then another. Feeling his hand leave her, she opened her eyes only to meet the intense blue of his.

Skimming his hand down her shoulder, he smoothed it down her back and let it rest just above her hip. He drew her close, pressing her body tight to his. His face inched forward.

Keeping her hand at the base of his neck, she felt her body being pulled toward him, felt the heat and overwhelming burning sensation in her stomach. His cheek brushed hers and the slightly stubbly skin tickled her neck and chin. She took a deep breath, feeling him do the same.

His chest rose and fell against hers and her breasts pressed into him. She clung to his shoulder.

His lips were on her neck before he had time to think about it.

"Wait, wait," she said, breathing rapidly.

His movements stopped and he pulled away slightly, but he was still close enough that she could feel his breath on her skin, hot and strong.

She wanted this--had for a long time, if she was honest. But there were so many secrets between them.

"I have to tell you something," she managed, her voice barely able to break free. God, there was so much she wanted to tell him.

His eyes were puzzled and a sense of guilt welled up inside him, seeping out for Elizabeth to see.

"You didn't do anything wrong," she panted, trying to collect her thoughts. "It's just..."

Who was the one pulling away now? She was _such_ a chicken-shit! She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his chest.

His hands instinctively went to her back and brought her closer to him. He smelled the soft floral scent of her shampoo and let his fingers travel up her spine to wrap around some soft curls.

They held each other. She didn't—couldn't—say another word. Not with these intense feelings roiling inside her.


	11. Chapter 11

Title: Remembering Tibet  
Author: Kat/Yuppiekat  
Rating: R  
Disclaimer: I don't own...well, anything pertaining to GH.  
Summary: This is an Alternate Universe fic. (And, possibly, a strange one at that.)-- The past haunts Jason and Elizabeth. In order to heal, they'll need each other.  
Notes: There are a few things that you should know about this fic... This fic was started (I believe) in 2002, but time constraints and frustration about the show stalled the writing of this fic. I am in the middle of re-reading and revising all the chapters. I'm not sure how often I can post. I wish I had more time to work on this, but you'll have to settle for a sporadic posting schedule. The character of Lucky is, well, very out of character. I'm aware of that. There is also a lot of head hopping in this fic... Um, sorry about that.

* * *

Elizabeth glanced around the lecture hall searching for Trisha. There had been no sign of her since after lunch and Elizabeth wondered if she would even show up at all. Trisha wasn't exactly a model student and skipping class wasn't exactly a foreign concept. It occurred to her after only a few minutes that no one else was in the room. Huh. Strange. 

Of course, her mind had been occupied by other thoughts…other people. Because no matter how much she tried not to think about Jason, he always seemed to be right there in the back of her mind trying to push his way through. It was becoming very annoying.

She checked her watch. The time was right, but she still sat alone, encompassed in silence. The only viable explanation was that she had wandered into the wrong room. While the likelihood of that was slim, she still made her way out of the class and checked for any postings on the door. Unfortunately, her class schedule was buried somewhere in her studio in what she liked to call the "organized chaos" filing system.

Shifting her painting to a more comfortable position, she weighed her options. Her art project was due today and since there didn't seem to be a class going on, one option was to wait until next week, after Christmas break, and lose twenty percent of her grade. The second, more practical but equally unappealing, option was to bring it directly to the man that marked them. The thought made her groan. Not wanting to miss any valuable percentage points, Elizabeth began the short jaunt across campus.

The air was brisk. She struggled through the slushy streets and down the icy steps to Dr. Shapry's basement office. It figured he would choose such a dank location to reside. The latch on the door stuck and she nearly lost her balance pulling it open. The walls were stone, a deep gray uneven structure that gave off little light and smelled faintly of moist mildew.

The stairs inside were just as slippery as the ice-covered ones outside. She watched her step, doing her best to balance the weight of her painting while gripping the handrail at her side. Pushing through the next set of doors, she walked down a long hallway, noting with each growing step how much the place reminded her of a dungeon—some sort of weird torture chamber where art students came to die.

When she finally found a door with the correct nameplate, she was relieved that she didn't have to search the whole building. It was starting to give her the creeps. She kept expecting a dragon or a serpent or some other mythological creature to jump out at her. She knocked twice and stepped back.

"Come in!"

She opened the door and stood there. Dr. Sharpy was behind his desk, arms folded around his abundant stomach, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, his hair drooping and lifeless, the bald spots hastily covered by long tuffs of hair, and ever-present was that shit-eating grin. It was like he had her right where he wanted her.

"Elizabeth Webber, right on time."

"Right on time?" Her voice was shaking. Maybe that whole torture thing wasn't too far fetched…

"For your art critique. You didn't forget, did you?"

"Oh no, of course not." Elizabeth felt her cheeks grow hot. Of course she'd forgotten! Why, oh why, did she keep confirming Dr. Sharpy's observations? No wonder he thought she was an idiot! "I brought along my painting and everything."

"Well, don't just stand there. Let's have a look."

Elizabeth took a few more steps until she was fully in the room, throwing off the old bed sheet that hid her work. She turned the painting so Dr. Sharpy could get a better look. He took the painting from her and set it on the stool beside him, turning in his chair to study the finer details. He didn't just _look_ at the painting, he got right up against the canvas, less than an inch away from the paint, pulling back and twisting his head, examining everything. Elizabeth felt a knot form in her stomach.

Needing a distraction, she looked around, trying to get a better sense of the man sitting before her. His desk was a mess with papers haphazardly strewn about; a small calendar with critical dates circled; sketch pads; art texts; a half eaten pastrami on rye; orange peels; a coffee-stained mug with Munch's Scream on it. She had to hide her smile. It was just how she felt. She pulled her eyes from the desk. The floor was wood and when she moved a step, it creaked under her foot. Dr. Sharpy did not look up. She took another step.

On the walls there were posters from art exhibits, chronologically displaying the universities rich history with the art program. She read the names, felt her hand drift up, wanting to touch them, to rub off some of their magic. God, what she wouldn't give to have one, just one, of her paintings in the end of the year art show. She'd been dreaming of it since she threw caution to the wind, avoiding her father's warnings and her grandmother's stab at practicality and entered the art program anyway. She'd been dreaming of it since she'd first picked up a crayon in kindergarten and drawn her very first work of art. And now, standing in Dr. Sharpy's office, she felt as far away from her dream as she ever had.

"Hmm."

His voice startled her and she whipped her head around, straining the muscles in her neck beyond their capacity.

Their eyes connected and Elizabeth didn't like what she saw shining through.

Dr. Sharpy held his glasses against his chest and let out a low whistle through his nose. "The shading's perfect, the play of light and dark on the trees is impeccable. I like the reds you've used in this one. Nice use of detail on the water's edge. It's good, but so what?"

"Excuse me?" Elizabeth asked, dumbfounded.

So far the words Dr. Sharpy had used were the kindest and most compassionate he had the courtesy of espousing for any of her paintings. Words like dull and lifeless had been common, however. So, to say she was a little taken aback was a gross miscalculation. All she wanted was just one encouraging sentence. One phrase so she knew she belonged in this program.

"Why do you think people hate art, Miss Webber? Why do people protest it?"

"Um…"

"Um?"

"Well, I guess, sometimes art scares people." She surprised herself by speaking so quickly and was even more surprised that he'd heard her tiny voice over the thumping of her heart.

"Why do you think that is?" Dr. Sharpy pulled his handkerchief from his suit jacket and took off his glasses. He began to methodically clean the lenses while he listened.

"Because…you can't hide imperfections." She looked up for approval, but his eyes implored her to continue. "Let's take a portrait for example, the paint's going to pick up those small imperfections that people try so hard to hide. You can't fool a canvas; it sees what it wants to see. People don't always come out perfect."

He was intrigued. "And people want to be perfect?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath. "People want what they can't have, so yeah, they want to be perfect. If they didn't, there would be no such thing as liposuction or Botox. People wouldn't pay good money for boob jobs. Um, you know, those kinds of things." She looked up again, a little embarrassed to have used the term "boob" in front of such an educated man. "See, people hate art because it shows them who they really are. It's honest. It's the most honest mirror you'll ever have."

Dr. Sharpy smiled. Actually smiled! And it was without malice or smugness. "That's a very good observation, Miss Webber, but how is it that you've never applied this knowledge to your own work?" The professor put his now-clean glasses back on.

"I-I don't know." Elizabeth took her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down a little harder than she meant to.

"Miss Webber, you've been a student here for, what, four years?"

Elizabeth nodded, confirming.

"Right. So, you know I expect all of these things…the shading, the lighting, et cetera et cetera. You have good technique, but that's not what I'm interested in. I want to see energy and life," he said punctuating his points with broad sweeps of his hands in the air. "I want it to _pop_, to stand out, to blur and confuse me... I'm not saying I want it to be sloppy, but I want you to learn that it's okay to paint what you feel, to paint with your heart. You paint these landscapes and they're fine. They're okay, you see, because there's nothing behind them. No…soul. There are trees and grass and clouds, but there's emptiness everywhere else. And I don't mean in the landscape."

Elizabeth felt her world shattering around her. She'd worked extra hard on this project, stayed up many late nights just to finish, and this is what he had to say? "I don't know what you want from me." Her voice sounded very far away even to her own ears. And she hated, absolutely hated, that she always regressed in his presence. She shrank and became unsure and doubted everything. And she_ hated_ that.

His smile was wry, almost condescending. "That's just it. I think you do. You do, but you're afraid to go there, afraid to show yourself. I want to see _you_. I want to know what it was like…I don't know…the first time you saw snow! Show me a heart break! A-A moment! A moment in time when you felt something so intensely, so irresistibly compelling that you had to share. Show me something! Anything!"

Elizabeth stood, visibly shrinking while her professor watched.

Dr. Sharpy was pensively watching her. He decided to take pity on her. He noticed her face smeared crimson. He was very well aware that Elizabeth Webber did not like the spotlight and that, under all the layers of shyness, hidden was a wonderful artist who just hadn't tapped into her reserves of depth yet. "Explain to me why you paint so many landscapes. Tell me why you always paint things that are beautiful," he asked finally

"I don't know."

"That's not an answer. Elizabeth, look at me."

She did.

"_Why_ do you only paint things that are beautiful?"

Elizabeth didn't allow herself time to think about it. "Because I'm scared of what I would paint if I truly allowed myself to go _there_."

"Life hasn't been easy for you, has it, Miss Webber?"

Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

"Despite what you think, I only want the best for you." Dr. Shapy's voice softened. "Sometimes it's hard, Miss Webber, to go there, to look your past in the face and put it onto canvas, but you're only doing a disservice to yourself and to the rest of the world if you continue to play it safe. Sometimes life is ugly. Sometimes it hurts."

Elizabeth wasn't sure how to respond.

"I'll be fifty-eight next month, Miss Webber, and I've been teaching all around the world for nearly thirty years and in all that time I've never seen so much wasted talent as I've seen with you."

The tears welled up in Elizabeth's eyes before she had even a slight chance to try to control them. Her heart ached. All she ever wanted was to be an artist and now he was going to tell her she wasn't good enough. She felt sick and didn't think she could stand to hear it. "I...Dr. Sharpy, I can do bett-"

"Wait! I haven't finished," he soothed, slowing down her unconscious retreat. "I was going to say, I've never seen so much wasted talent as I have with you, but I also have never seen someone who has more of "_it"_ than you. There is so much potential here, Miss Webber, but you need to show yourself. A true artist isn't afraid to show her fears, to show her own flaws and humanity. You've been playing it safe and you know it. If you graduate from this school and put those paintings out for critics, they'll see right through you. They will tear you apart and my criticisms will seem kind in comparison. I know you're better than this. Prove it to me...prove it to yourself."

Elizabeth looked up, feeling a new wave of hope encompass her. Dr. Sharpy, for better or for worse, believed in her and though he was demanding and unrelenting, he really did want her to succeed. "Thank you, sir. I'll try."

"Don't just try, Miss Webber, do it."

Walking away, she let that digest.

* * *

Elizabeth had never denied that, sometimes, when a situation overwhelmed her, she choose to retreat. It was easier—easier to deal with the fallout than facing the situation head-on. She had practically run from Sonny's house after the almost-kiss with Jason and that was over a month ago. God, and what a long month it had been! 

Her bruises and the scratches on her face had healed. The only reminder of that unfortunate day in the woods was the small scar on her leg. And though, there was no permanent reminder of the day in the living room with Jason, she could still remember the way his warmth breath had felt on her skin, the way his lips had just barely grazed the delicate skin of her neck… And she remembered those things often, and at the most inopportune times, too. Her grandmother was probably still confused when she had zoned out two weeks ago during one of their lunches. Okay, so there wasn't an easy way to blow-off moaning into a bowl of soup. Although, she was pretty sure if Audrey, or any other woman with a heartbeat, had been that close to Jason, she would have had some incredibly intense fantasies of her own. So, yeah. There was that.

But, while she had been thinking about Jason, she had yet to muster up the courage to go back and face him. Instead, she found ways to visit Sonny, Max and the Monastery, conveniently…like when Jason wasn't around.

It wasn't like she was scared to face Jason or anything. Oh, who was she kidding?! She was a chicken-shit! A little scaredy cat! In fact, she was more terrified than the time she put a dent in her brother's beloved car—it wasn't like she _meant_ to shoot a hockey puck into the door! She was even more antsy than that wild summer night she didn't come home until 6 a.m., even though she had known Gram would be sitting up waiting for her, beside herself with worry.

Avoiding Jason, at first, was something silly that she did because she was embarrassed. But after a week, silly turned serious, and every time she thought of going to see him, it was like her insides were being turned out and she just couldn't make herself talk to him.

But she _was_ talking to someone. Father Max turned out to be a really great listener and didn't mind when she rattled on and on about nothing in particular. He was like a gal-pal that way. Though, God knows, he wouldn't let her do his nails no matter how much she insisted it would make her feel better. And he didn't patronize her and tell her that everything would be okay, because he just didn't know. She respected that about him. Maybe she liked talking to him best because she knew he couldn't lie to her. It was in the job description. And sometimes she just needed that kind of reality check.

Sonny was altogether different. He started to catch on to what she was doing by the second day, and though he never confronted her about it, she did get the sense that he didn't quite approve.

She hated putting them in the middle, but as the days turned into weeks, it just seemed impossible to talk to Jason. It became this all-encompassing thing. Something that took over her life, her thoughts, and her dreams. If she had just nipped it in the bud, if she had just explained to him then…well, everything would be different. But it was hard to explain something she didn't quite fully understand herself.

So here she was. A stack of laundry bigger than herself, a blueberry Slurpee, barely three hours of sleep, and a best friend who would not shut up about the one person she had no desire to talk about.

"Are you going to tell me what happened or am I going to have to tie you down and sit on you until you spill?" Trisha had that twinkle in her eye she only got when she was determined. And Trisha was determined to get Liz to spill all the juicy details about Jason.

Elizabeth dumped out her laundry bag, taking a sideways glance at her friend. "You know, somehow, I don't think you're joking."

"That's 'cause you know me too well, girly!"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Yeah, as scary as that is..."

"So, what's the dealio?"

"Dealio?"

Trisha smiled. "Yeah, it's my new word. I'm also trying to fit the word bratwurst into every conversation I have from now until Christmas."

"Is that another one of your clever euphemisms?"

"I'm a sexual being. Cut me a little slack. I can't help it if I'm drawn to words that may imply a certain tubular shape similar to the male form." Trisha searched her canvas bag and produced several shades of nail polish.

"An alpha male?"

"Huh?" Trisha looked up from examining one of the bottles of polish, a deep red.

Cramming her clothes into the washer, Elizabeth could feel the heat rise in her cheeks and her ears burned from embarrassment. "Well, bratwurst implies...well, you know."

"Lizzie, are you blushing?"

"Shut up and pass me the soap."

Trisha complied.

"This color would look great on you." She held up the red to show Elizabeth. "Let me?"

"Sure, why not." Holding out her small, delicate hand, Trisha went to work on the nails.

"So, does that mean you haven't seen Jason's...uh, bratwurst yet?"

Elizabeth flinched, causing the polish to smear her skin. "Trisha! Jesus, why the hell are you so fascinated with him and his...you know, bratwurst?!"

"I'm not, but you obviously are," she said, holding her hand tighter while she searched her bag for nail polish remover. "Come on, Liz, tell me what happened before I make good on the sitting on you thing."

Reaching down, she found the bottle for Trisha and handed it over. "Fine, if that will make you drop the subject, I'll tell you. It's simple, really. Jason was going to kiss me and I freaked out."

"Did he have bad breath?" Trisha asked, concentrating on painting Elizabeth's nails.

"No."

"Did he smell bad?"

"No."

"Was his...you know...bratwurst a little too…?" She asked with a smirk.

"Huh?"

"You know, was he being pushy or whatever?"

Elizabeth cringed. "God, no! He was gentle and sweet and I just completely had a melt-down right there."

"Well, I just don't get it then. Other hand," she requested, absently shaking her head trying to decipher the information she was pumping out of her best friend. "Did you _want_ to kiss him?"

"Yes."

With a coy smile, Trisha said, "but you didn't."

"I couldn't."

"You couldn't?"

"I don't even know him!"

A tiny snort of laughter came from Trisha. "Sure you do. You spend enough time over there."

"But he's never even spoken one word to me!" Elizabeth rubbed her forehead mindful of her freshly painted nails.

"Yeah, but weren't you all ready to seduce him not too long ago?"

"Well, yeah, but… I don't know. Okay, I get it. I flip. I flop. I'm all over the place when it comes to him. But… Ugh! It's just so weird! To have this connection...to feel so much for someone that... To just want to be with him like that and not even know what he's really thinking...what he would say if he could?"

"Elizabeth, are you sure this has anything to even do with Jason?" Trisha asked, stopping what she was doing completely.

"Trisha, he's the first man I've really truly been interested in since..." Elizabeth closed her eyes tight. "I'm not good at this relationship thing, you know that."

"Wait a minute. Are you asking for my advice...about sex?" There was a hint of triumph in her voice.

"No!" Elizabeth blanched. There was no need to talk about sex. Definitely no need. Right? Well… "Uh, not really... I mean, maybe. Fine, yes. Yes, okay. I'm asking about sex!"

"What'd ya wanna know, sugar?" Trisha tilted her eyebrows up suggestively.

"It's not like I've never done it, Trisha! I'm not asking about positions or anything so just wipe that smug look off your face. You know this is hard for me to talk about, especially... Just, you don't have to look so damn contrite about it." Elizabeth turned around, slumping against the washing machine.

Unable to see Elizabeth's face, Trisha stood and went around the washers, turning Liz to the side so she could look at her. "Sweetie, I'm sorry. Really. I was being insensitive. I just...I wasn't thinking."

Elizabeth swallowed past the lump of emotions in her throat. "That's okay. It's just...you know it's hard for me to open up about things like this."

"I know. I didn't think." Lightly she moved the hair out of Elizabeth's eyes. "Ask me anything," she encouraged, her tone more nurturing.

"I'm just worried. Men expect things...you know," she said softly, "sex things." Elizabeth looked up then and her eyes were wide and a little frightened.

It just about broke Trisha's heart that just a second ago she was being so insensitive when this obviously mattered a great deal to her friend.

"And, after I kiss him...well, that's just going to lead to other things and I'm not quite sure I'm prepared to do those things right now."

Trisha's hand came to her shoulder and rubbed gently, soothingly. "Jason wouldn't make you do anything you're not comfortable with."

"I know that, I do." Her tone was resolute. She did know that about him.

"And if he does," Trisha said, taking Elizabeth's hand, "if he does expect other things-- which he won't--but if he does," she continued pointedly, "honey, you're allowed to say no. Okay?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Okay."

"Jason cares, Elizabeth. He wouldn't hurt you." With that, Trisha pulled her into a hug and squeezed tight. "Well, not if he knows what's good for him," she added, desperately trying to lighten the mood.

Elizabeth hoped that to be true. Needed it to be. She wiped her eyes of tears she hadn't known she'd shed and composed herself before letting go of her friend and was not surprised to find a suspicious looking moisture at the corner of Trisha's eyes as well.

Elizabeth shook herself and stretched. "Oh, look, there's Lucky," she said, catching sight of him through the window. She was thankful for the distraction—and more than thankful to change the subject.

"Maybe, if we be real quiet, he won't see us."

"Of course he'll see us. We've done laundry in this very spot on this very day of the week since we've been in school. He knows we're here, what's your problem? You two in a fight or something?" Elizabeth turned to her friend skeptically.

"Well, _technically_, no."

"Technically?" Liz laughed. "Hmm."

Panning from the window to the expression on her friend's face Elizabeth began to formulate theories, which didn't go unnoticed by Trisha. "Don't give me that look. I know that look."

"What look?"

Trisha scrunched up her face and took in a deep breath. "The 'I-have-a-way-to-torture-you-now-so-I'm-going-to-make-your-life-as-painful-as-possible-until-you-fess-up look."

"Really? 'Cause I was aiming for the Lucky's-grinning-like-an-idiot-so-either-he-just-found-his-hidden-stash-of-playboys-we-put-in-the-tank-of-his-toilet-or-he-got-some-hubba-hubba-hot-lovin'-from-you. I guess I didn't make that clear enough. Maybe I'll try a little more pout or more eye brow next time, I think. So, which is it?"

"Possibly the second one." Turing her head to the side she mumbled quickly, "Wekindaaccidentallymadeoutalittle."

Elizabeth's smile was radiant. The tables had turned. "Well, that's interesting. So what makes this so different from all the other times you two have accidentally made-out? How does that work again—what, do you just fall on each other's lips and then oops, half-an-hour later you realize his hand is under your sweater, on your boob, and the fly on his jeans decided to hitch a ride south?" Picking up her forgotten frozen drink, Elizabeth took a gulp soothing her throat.

"Kinda. I don't know, Lizzie!" she said throwing her arms up and hopping onto the washing machine just when the spin cycle started. "He was there and I was there and you _know_ I love whip cream."

"What?!" Elizabeth gasped, sending blue chips of ice sailing across the floor from her mouth.

"I'm weak, girl. Weak!" Trisha exclaimed burying her head in her hands.

Elizabeth swirled a straw into the drink to try to break up some of the ice chunks while she thought of what to say. What do you say when your best friend admits to having some kinky tendencies in the bedroom? She was pretty sure Emily Post never covered that kind of etiquette. "Well, then, I uh, gee, I don't know what to say to that exactly."

"Oh, dear God, Elizabeth, it was a total mistake!" she groaned, her eyes barely peaking out of her fingers.

Elizabeth smirked. Payback was a bitch. "As opposed to the other, what, ten or twenty times before that? Face it, Trisha, on some level you're attracted to Lucky and sooner or later the two of you are going to have se-"

"Do not say it!" Jumping down from the washer Trisha slapped her hands over Elizabeth's mouth.

Elizabeth laughed, prying Trisha's hands away. "I won't say it, but it's just a matter of time."

"Let's not talk about it. I get all tripped out."

"Sure, whatever you want."

"Just one more thing though...hubba-hubba-hot-lovin'?" she asked, one eyebrow quirked.

Rolling her eyes, Elizabeth giggled. "It could have been worse, Harper. I could have mentioned his bratwurst."

"Thank God for small miracles. Shh, shh here he comes."

Enter the cat that ate the canary. Lucky certainly wasn't having trouble hiding his smile. "Hello, my lovely ladies!"

"Lucky," Trisha said curtly, transferring her wet clothes to the dryer, making minimal eye contact.

"Hey, Lucky, how's it going?" Elizabeth asked, more politely than her counterpart.

"Not bad. Hey, Liz, you got plans for Christmas yet? 'Cause my mom and dad are away again and I thought maybe the three of us could do something together. You know, since we'll all be here."

It was funny how when Lucky asked a question he directed it at Trisha's ample chest. It was very much a guy thing.

Although Jason never did that... Jason always looked her in the eye... Oh, God, she was hopeless.

"Well, actually, Sonny invited me to this Christmas party-"

"And I'm going with her." Trisha interjected taking a break from painting her nails, which she had just resumed, to avoid speaking to Lucky. Unfortunately, the only thing that move really did was give him a better look at her cleavage.

"Well, yeah, but Sonny said I could invite whoever I wanted. So, you're welcome to come with us, Lucky."

Lucky didn't try to hide his disapproval. "Wait, Sonny? As in Sonny Corinthos?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Elizabeth, are you out of your mind?! Do you know who Sonny Corinthos is? He used to run the mob for Christ sakes!"

"So? He doesn't anymore."

"That's not the point!" Lucky barked.

"Then what is the point, Spencer?" Trisha asked, blowing on her nails to dry them.

"The point is," Lucky grumbled, fisting his hands in the back of his hair in frustration, "the man is a killer! Elizabeth, his wife and kid got killed because of him. I'd hate to see anything happen to you."

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders, dismissing his claims a little too casually. "Nothing's going to happen."

"You say that now," he grumbled. "What is it with chicks and bad boys?"

Beginning to help Trisha paint her right hand nails, Elizabeth looked up briefly to get her point across. "Lucky, not that it's any of your business, but I'm not interested in Sonny."

"Yeah, Spence, it's Jason you should be yelling at her about."

Elizabeth shot her friend a warning glare. "Trisha, don't start!"

"Who's starting anything? I'm on your side." She smirked.

Elizabeth snorted. "Well good, then I expect to see you both at the party. And it's formal. That means at least a tie and dress pants, Lucky, but a tux would be nice."

"You know I'll be there," Trisha said, low and huskily, intent on annoying Lucky. "With bells on."

Lucky--not being too subtle--rolled his eyes. "A tux? Fuck me!" Taking the time for a dramatic pause he continued, "I guess that means I'll be there, too. Just in case one of you gets some fancy idea in your head about these gangsters. Look, I've got to go...get a a tux," he said with distain.

"With bells on? What the hell does that mean?" They heard him muttering while he walked out of the doors of the Laundromat.

"He _so_ wants you," Elizabeth taunted.

"Well, he can keep on having wet dreams because it ain't gunna happen."

"Sure. Listen, I'm going to have to meet you at the party. I have to cover a shift at Kelly's and I could really use the money. You remember how to get there and everything? It's supposed to be in the church basement."

"Sure, babe. I'm sure I can drive Lucky nuts by flirting with Sonny until you get there."

"You're so cruel."

"I know."

* * *

Jason's lap was becoming increasingly hot. 

Hours. Three hours and twenty-three minutes to be exact. That's how long he'd been searching the internet. Finally, he'd caught a break. Scrolling down, he finished filling out his billing address and then hit send. There had been a point during his search that he thought he was seeking out the impossible. But then, like magic, the impossible loomed in front of him and all of his strict conditions were met, making his world come into focus again. It was worth it. She deserved the very best.

He smiled approvingly at the screen.

"I don't see Elizabeth anywhere around, so what's up with that smile?"

Jason felt heat creep onto his cheeks. He hadn't even realized he'd been smiling and being caught by Sonny was not his finest moment.

Sonny was really getting a kick out of this…whatever it was. The constant teasing was just part of what he'd had to deal with. Sonny seemed to be on some sort of mission to make Jason sick from embarrassment.

"So...you going to tell me what's going on?"

Jason shook his head and proceeded to shut down the computer. Flipping the screen shut on the laptop, he placed it on the coffee table in front of him and crossed his arms.

"Fine. I bet I know what you're up to anyway. Want to give me a hand with the groceries?"

Jason stood and followed Sonny out to the car. The thick snow was crunchy under his heavy steps and the wind nipped at his bare arms. Looking down, he realized the walkway could use a fresh coat of salt. He'd get to that after the groceries were put away though.

"I can't believe tomorrow's Christmas already. It seems like Thanksgiving was just the other day."

Jason let out a winded grunt when he set down a heavy bag of potatoes on the counter. Knowing exactly what Sonny was trying to do, Jason ignored the prompting.

He did not want to "talk" about Elizabeth, even though he could admit that he missed her. At least to himself. In fact, he hadn't realized how much he had previously looked forward to her visits until she stopped coming altogether.

At first, he'd thought she was busy…busy with school, busy with work, busy with friends. Too busy to come and see them. But then he'd been in the forest late one afternoon, gathering kindling, when he'd seen her through the brush, walking out of the house with Francis, Johnny and Max. They were chattering away like they were old friends. She'd gotten into Johnny's car and driven away. It had stopped Jason's world. He'd even dropped all the wood he was carrying. It just…it didn't make any sense. It wouldn't be the last time he'd come upon a scene similar. He was always a minute too late. Like she knew. Like she planned it that way.

It would have been easy to show up at her door, but what would he have done once he got there? How could he ask her what he had done wrong? He just couldn't figure it out. Was he really misinterpreting things? Did they somehow get their signals crossed? His lack of experience with women, and people in general, was really starting to show. And as the days turned to weeks, he started to feel an overwhelming sense of dread that she was never coming back…at least, not to see him. Something inside of him had twisted violently, piercing a deep wound. The thought that he might have hurt her… It didn't rest well with him. In fact, it didn't rest at all. He spent many days thinking about her, going over all of their encounters, trying to figure out how to make things right, and many nights lying in bed, unable to sleep, unable to get her image to leave him. Of course, he couldn't resolve anything…not when Elizabeth wouldn't even see him.

Going back for the last load, Jason stopped. Hearing laughter, he looked toward the church and his heart all but stopped while he watched Elizabeth and Max talking at the threshold. Rolling his shoulders, Jason picked up the bag of salt and slowly started dusting the walkway. Sooner or later she was going to have to speak to him and he wasn't giving her a choice to back out.

Today was the day.

* * *

"Hey, Father Max. How's it going?" Elizabeth's cheerful voice filled the church and resonated off the walls. 

Max smiled in appreciation.

"Can't complain. Weather's gettin' to be a bit much, but other than that, it looks like it's turning into a nice day." Max stretched and looked up at the sky. "I think the sun might even come out later."

"Yeah," Elizabeth answered, somewhat absently. She watched Jason and Sonny unload the car from the church doors.

Max caught her line of sight and tried to subtly broach the subject. "Something wrong, Miss Webber? You seem a little distracted."

"You told me Jason wouldn't be home," Elizabeth accused with faint humor in her eyes.

"Oh, is that Jason over there? I'm sorry my eyes aren't very good." Subtly was not his specialty. "Yeah, I guess that is Jason. Really, this wasn't a trick, Elizabeth. Sonny told me that Jason would be out for most of the day."

"It's not your fault, Father. I guess I have to talk to him sooner or later."

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it? It might make you feel better. I know you said Jason didn't do anything to you, but are you sure? I mean it's been nearly a month and you've been avoiding him. Even Sonny mentioned something to me the other day."

"It's just... Well, remember the stuff we talked about?"

"Of course." Max adjusted his collar. He still wasn't used to the thing…or the robes…or the crosses…or anything else, for that matter.

"Well, you helped me a lot, but now I'm worried that too much time has passed. That I've screwed up what little chance I had with him. I mean, how many girls do you know that freak out every time you try to kiss them?"

Max shot her an amused smile.

"Oh right, I guess that wouldn't work for you. How does that work? I mean, aren't you lonely? Don't you wish you had someone that you shared a special connection with?"

Max froze. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? Every time he was around Elizabeth he was reminded of how much of a jack-ass he was. Every time he saw her he was forced to dig the lies just a little bit deeper. Today would be no exception. "I have God. I guess that's all I really need." That sounded priestly enough, he figured.

"That's nice," she said, genuinely, with a small smile. "Well, I suppose I have to bite the bullet and make my way over there."

"I think that would be a step in the right direction."

"Thanks, Father. You're really a great listener. Oh, I almost forgot. Here, I baked you some brownies."

"Well, that's... You didn't have to...but I'm glad you did." Max bent down and gave Elizabeth a hug. He knew how skittish she sometimes was, and over the past month he'd worked hard to gain her trust…which, really just made him feel like a huge monster for lying through his pearly whites, day-in and day-out.

"Have a good Christmas. I guess I'll see you tomorrow. That is if I don't die of embarrassment first."

"You'll do fine. Jason'll be so happy to see you he won't care about anything else."

"Thanks," she said again before taking a deep breath.

She collected the presents she'd left by the door and carefully walked over the snow-covered pathway to the house where Jason was outside waiting.

* * *

"Jason," she said softly, surprised her voice held up. 

Jason smiled. A true genuine smile that lit up his face.

The best way to get this over with was just to plunge ahead. "How-how are you? I know it's been a long time and I'm sorry about what happened before. I meant to come sooner but I kept putting it off and then I just didn't know what to say. Then it was easier to come around when you weren't here. Then, I guess, I basically started avoiding you, but that was never my intention and now... Well, I still don't know what to say, but I guess I'm sorry and I don't know why I freaked out like that. I mean, it really had nothing to do with you. It was about me...only I didn't know what to say and you just held me and were so sweet and well, I guess I was a little embarrassed…" Elizabeth trailed off, taking a huge breath and nearly choking on the cold air when it entered her lungs. "Oh, God." There. It was all out there. Everything was exposed to the elements.

God, he'd missed that. That nonsensical gibberish. The way her mouth wrapped around tongue-twisting words and how her eyes lit up with raw fire. He took a step closer, inhaling her scent. She smelled like Elizabeth and he took a big breath. The relief melted away the worry and he found his lips forming a smile and that smile turn into a low chuckle.

His eyes were soft and his cheeks rosy from the cold air. Keeping his lips quirked, Elizabeth surmised that all had been forgiven, even if he didn't understand one word of her babbling

Reaching down, he grabbed the parcels and canvas bag that looked too heavy for her.

Without the presents weighing her down, Elizabeth stood on her tip-toes and reached her arms around Jason's neck, giving him a small peck on the cheek. "Merry Christmas," she said weakly.

If Jason didn't have his arms full, he would have held her and brought her a little closer, just to reacquaint himself with her touch.

Pulling away altogether too fast for Jason's liking, Elizabeth took off her winter hat and combed her fingers through her hair. "We should… Should we go inside?"

Jason nodded and motioned for her to go first. Needing no more prompting, Elizabeth practically skipped up the stairs and through the door. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

The whole house smelled sweet, like pastries and pies and home.

An amused Sonny met her and gave her a brief hug. "Elizabeth, Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Sonny. I, uh, I got you some presents. Actually, Jason has them." She gestured to Jason.

He carefully made his way up the icy steps.

"You didn't have to get me anything." Sonny laughed. "But I did happen to find one or two things I thought you might like."

"Sonny, I told you--"

"Hey, if you can spoil me, then I surely can return the favor."

Elizabeth blushed. "Okay, but you didn't have to."

"Exactly. I wanted to. Well, now that that's settled, why don't we go into the living room and have something hot to drink to warm us up."

"Sure, that sounds good." Elizabeth reached for her bags.

"Don't worry, Jason's got it."

"Thanks, Jason." Elizabeth smiled a slow, warm smile directed at Jason.

Jason would have returned it if his heart wasn't in his throat. A month of waiting for this reunion had left him feeling dizzy and punch-drunk in her presence.

The trio sat in the living room and Elizabeth couldn't help but fidget. She was really having second thoughts about the presents she'd picked out for them.

Handing a present to Sonny, she encouraged him to open it. "When I was little my mom would always let me open one present on Christmas Eve and the rest the next day. If you wouldn't mind...I thought you might want to do that," she offered shyly.

Sonny's eyes were warm. He stood and dug under the tree for a beautifully wrapped present that he handed to her.

"Oh, I didn't mean for me," she said, chagrined. "I just meant that you could--"

"Open it," he said, cutting her off.

Elizabeth tore at the paper. She wasn't the type to sit and pick at presents for hours while preserving all the wrapping paper. Nope, when she got a present, she didn't care if the paper was torn to shreds as long as she got to see what was inside. The paper gave way quickly, revealing extremely high-quality horse-hair art brushes, engraved with her name in the sleek bone handles. Pulling out the fine brushes, one by one, carefully studying them, she smiled brightly. "Sonny, they're beautiful. They're… It's too much!"

"Nonsense! You like them, then? The saleswoman helped me out, but I still wasn't too sure. I don't know that much about art." He shrugged.

"I love them," she assured him.

It almost hurt how much she loved them. No one had ever given her a gift with so much thought. No one had ever believed in her enough to do such a thing.

Placing the brushes down, Elizabeth reached into her bag and looked for the present she wanted to give Sonny. Finding it, she handed it to him.

He unwrapped it with care.

Holding her breath from a mixture of anticipation and fear, her face fell when she caught the look on Sonny's face. She should have been prepared for this. She should have known Dr. Sharpy was right.

The sun seemed harsh coming in from the large bay window and highlighting shadows along the opposite way.

Elizabeth cleared her throat. Her hands were shaking where she clutched her new brushes to her chest. Looking down, she realized what she was doing and set the brushes down beside her.

Sonny remained fixated. His eyes, swirls of inky black, crinkled at the sides, making them look old and weathered, like pages from a book, while he studied the object in his hands without blinking.

Elizabeth felt the earth move from under her. Sonny had always had such a happy disposition. She hadn't seen him look this tortured since that day on the hill, at Brenda's grave. Fear rolled inside her like thunder. She could hear it rumble through her. "I talked to Johnny about it and he helped me find some photos of Brenda and Dominic. I-I know you always wanted to have a real family photo and since I couldn't make that happen, I thought I'd draw you one.

"I-I aged them to how they might look now. Dominic would be almost eleven now, Johnny said, and Brenda was—well, she was beautiful and I know I could never capture her perfectly, but I wanted you to have this. If you don't like it... I didn't know whether I was crossing the line. I know I shouldn't have snooped, but I wanted to make this special for you. I wanted to show you how much you mean to me and how welcomed you've made me feel. I wish it could be more."

"Elizabeth." Sonny's hand fitted over Elizabeth's.

She could feel the tears come to her eyes and silently berated herself for invading Sonny's privacy. She shouldn't have done it. "I'm sorry, Sonny. It was a bad idea. The more I think about it now--I should have thought it out better. I should have known it would upset you. God, you must just hate me."

Sonny squeezed her hand and finally managed to raise his head and look her way. His voice was very soft and somewhat shaky. "I don't hate you, Elizabeth. I could never hate you."

She could practically feel the moment her heart started beating again and she hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until that moment. "You don't? I shouldn't have--"

"No. I'll treasure this always." He stood and walked a step toward her, waiting until she stood too before he gave her a hug.

"I'm sorry, Sonny. I really wish it could be more," she said against his shoulder.

"It's enough." He ran his fingers through her hair and took a deep breath. "It really is. They… You did a real good job."

"Thanks, Sonny." Elizabeth wiped her eyes and sat back down.

Trying to change the subject and make them all feel a little more relaxed, Sonny pointed to one of the presents Elizabeth had brought.

"Well, look at that one. That's unusually shaped. I guess that's not the set of steak knives I had my heart set on."

"Sonny! Father Max told you, didn't he?!" Elizabeth laughed and it felt so good after just crying like that and making a fool out of herself.

"My lips are sealed. So, what is that big one, then?"

"Actually, that--that one's for Jason."

"Oh, I see." Sonny eyes twinkled with mischief.

"Go on. You can open it," she said when she noticed Jason's reluctance.

Jason took off the large silver bow from the front and sat it beside him on the chair. Unwrapping the brightly colored paper, the fresh scent of earth and nature coated the room. A small pine tree sat in the middle of charcoal soil with a tiny star tree-topper and red ribbon on its base.

Jason pressed a fallen pine needle between his fingers, brought it to his nose and inhaled the distinctive aroma.

Elizabeth watched him with tension. She wasn't sure he'd understood her gift. "I-I thought maybe in the spring you and I could--I thought we could plant it since Sonny said you wouldn't ever get a real tree. We could decorate it just for tonight and then I thought…well, I thought you could keep it through the winter and then we could, you know, plant it. Together." It wasn't just a tree, it was a promise. A promise that she would be around at least that long if--well, if he wanted her to be.

After a few moments of unbearable silence, Elizabeth stood and marched toward Jason who was still staring at the tiny tree. Grabbing the clay pot, Elizabeth tried to pry it out of his much stronger hands, but he wouldn't let go.

"You hate it!" she said mournfully, giving up trying to pry it form his grasp. "I'm really bad at choosing presents. Sometimes I just don't think things through."

She laughed a little to mask the hurt. Oh, my God, she'd given the man a tree! What the _hell_ was she thinking?!

She really didn't care if he hated the tree. It wasn't the prettiest of trees, after all. She just wanted him to understand what she couldn't yet say out loud. She wanted to try, to build something with him. In all the cheesy, metaphorical ways she wanted them to grow just like the tree--to become something beautiful. She wanted them to become something that could stand the test of time and live through any season.

Jason met her eyes and his gaze was heated.

She felt her heart tug while she explored those incredibly blue eyes that were boring into her.

Jason shook his head. Taking her hand, he gave her a light squeeze.

He didn't hate it at all.

* * *

Trisha waited impatiently for Lucky to come out of the bathroom. He'd been in there longer than necessary, in her opinion. She just didn't understand what he could possibly be doing. "Stop jerkin' your gherkin and let's go! We're already half-an-hour late." 

Her voice rang through the door loud and clear.

Lucky checked his tie in the mirror. It didn't look too bad for doing it himself. Who knew how to tie a bow tie anyway? "What's the big deal? Elizabeth won't even get there for another hour and we don't know anyone else," he said opening the door.

Trisha, dressed in a long black, body-hugging, cleavage-showing gown, stood tall and took a long look--sweeping her eyes up and down--at Lucky. He looked...handsome.

Oh God!

And so it begins...

"We know Sonny," she said absently, not doing well at hiding her reaction to him all dressed up and looking _fine_.

"And my hand was no where near my gher--my well, you know, my thing."

She laughed. "Sure, Lucky."

"It wasn't!" he defended.

"Uh, huh. Your tie is...your tie is done up wrong," she practically whispered, swallowing hard.

Lucky looked down and pulled on it, effectively undoing the knot. He smiled crookedly. "I'm used to clips-ons and Velcro."

"Here. Let me," she offered and took the ends of the tie in her hands without further prompting. In a minute flat, the tie looked like a million bucks.

Lucky offered a low laugh. "Wow, I'm impressed, Harper. Where'd you learn to do that?"

"I'm a spoiled rich kid, Spence. We go to a lot of these types of benefits. I used to help out my little brother, and sometimes my dad, when my mom was too busy."

Lucky's gaze was intense when she looked up and she had to take a deep breath and pull herself away before they had an accident again. Lips can be very dangerous things.

"Let's go," Lucky said, taking his coat and holding hers out to her.

"Sure. Unless, you know, you want to go back to the bathroom and get back to jerkin' your gherkin."

"For the last time, I was not masturbating!" he said with an edge of humor and a soft chuckle that followed them out the door.

* * *

Elizabeth was running late, as usual. By the time she'd gotten home and cleaned herself up from her shift, she was already behind her self-directed schedule. Oh, well. It was always better to make an entrance, right? Isn't that what Trisha said? 

The cab she had called got tired of waiting and drove off and another one couldn't be sent for an hour. Deciding that she couldn't wait that long, she began to walk.

It seemed like a good idea at the time until she caught a sideways glance at Paul Callahan from the other side of the street. She did _not_ want to talk to him, especially since she'd had a few crank calls that seemed suspicious.

"Well, well. If it isn't little Lizzie Webber! Where you headed?" The dark-headed jock asked. He crossed the street to join her.

"Get lost, Paul. I'm not in the mood for this today. And not that it's any of your business, but I'm on my way to the monastery," she said to him, resounding to keep her feet moving. Okay, so it was harsh, but there was something needling at her where Paul was concerned. There was something not right about him.

"Jeez, Webber, I always knew you were a prude, but I never knew you harbored fantasies of becoming a nun." He laughed, slapping his side.

It seemed someone had already found their Christmas spirit or rather _spirits_.

Stealing a quick glance, Elizabeth wondered what she had ever seen in him. True they had only dated a few times, but she was still embarrassed about the whole thing. "Screw you, Callahan!" Elizabeth spat.

"Such language for such a pristine little girl," Paul whispered into her ear, flipping her hair to the side.

"You know what, you're right," she told him stopping. "Dating you has turned me off men so much I decided to give them up all together and live a nice chaste life. Happy?" She pushed past him and tried to gain some distance.

"Look, Webber, why don't you let me walk you?" Paul sprinted to catch up to her, bumping her arm with his when he did.

"No thanks. I'm doing perfectly fine on my own." She hoped her voice sounded normal and didn't give away the fear that was beginning to well up inside her.

"Suit yourself, Lizzie. I'll see you around." With that, he crossed the street and headed in the opposite direction.

She watched him until she saw the blue lettering of his football jacket fade into the distance. For some reason, even though he was gone, she still had a bad feeling. She shivered involuntarily and pulled her jacket tighter against herself. Seeing the group of buildings, the house and church coming into view, Elizabeth relaxed and hurried along, fighting off the chill of the cold winds.


	12. Chapter 12

Title: Remembering Tibet  
Author: Kat/Yuppiekat  
Rating: R  
Disclaimer: I don't own...well, anything pertaining to GH.  
Summary: This is an Alternate Universe fic. (And, possibly, a strange one at that.)-- The past haunts Jason and Elizabeth. In order to heal, they'll need each other.  
Notes: There are a few things that you should know about this fic... This fic was started (I believe) in 2002, but time constraints and frustration about the show stalled the writing of this fic. I am in the middle of re-reading and revising all the chapters. I'm not sure how often I can post. I wish I had more time to work on this, but you'll have to settle for a sporadic posting schedule. The character of Lucky is, well, very out of character. I'm aware of that. There is also a lot of head hopping in this fic... Um, sorry about that.

* * *

Jason paced by the door. Nervous energy wound him so tight he was almost ready to explode.

It wasn't going to get here in time. He would look like a fool not giving her anything when she had obviously put a lot of thought and care into her gift. Why did he wait so long? Why didn't he have a back-up plan?

The truth? It was the perfect gift and he just couldn't see himself giving her anything else. So where the hell _was_ the messenger with the package? The website had guaranteed overnight delivery, even less than twenty-four hours, but that deadline had passed. So, what was he supposed to do? The crux of the problem was that he still didn't have a package in his hands. And if the package didn't arrive, he would not have a present for Elizabeth. And _that_ had potential to tailspin into a whole new block of misunderstanding.

Sonny, from his place at the kitchen table, glanced over at Jason. "Jason, you mind not pacing? You're wearing a hole into the carpet."

Jason looked up, seemingly unhearing. Standing by the large window, he checked for any vans approaching, any messenger boys on bikes. Something. Anything. But there was nothing. His hope began to dwindle.

"What's with you anyway?" Standing, Sonny took his coffee cup and refilled it. Going to the fridge for milk, he caught sight of the white and blue box he'd signed for earlier and had forgotten until then. "Oh, I almost forgot. A package came for you today. It's postmarked Italy. What, you don't like my cooking and decided to send away for some secret recipe?"

In two long strides, Jason was at his side, grabbing the box from Sonny's hands and staring down at it like it was manna from heaven. Talk about making him sweat!

"Something important?" Sonny inquired.

Jason nodded absently. He turned up the hall and took the stairs two at a time, then rushed to his room, closing the door tightly behind him. Taking a deep breath, he set the package on the bed, rummaging in a drawer for a knife of some sort cut away the tape.

His finger traced over the lettering on the outside: Murano Island, Italy.

Making a slit in the side, he carefully lifted the tape and Styrofoam wrap from the box, before gently lifting out Elizabeth's present. Perfect. It looked even better than the picture had suggested. And it was the most vibrant red he ever recalled seeing.

Doves. Beautiful, red, glass doves. He could have just gotten her a piece of red glass like the one in the story she'd told him, but it just didn't sit right with him. He thought it would mean something either way, but it needed to be more. At first he hadn't been sure if it was the right thing to do. After all, doves were practically biblical figures, symbolizing both purity and innocence, but then he thought about everything else they represented. Doves mate for life, they stick together through thick and thin and work hard together to protect their families. They're mercilessly loyal creatures, taking care of each other and their offspring. A dove has an aura of peace and love, a true symbol of devotion. He hoped she understood what he was trying to tell her without words.

Kneeling down in front of the bed, he pulled out a stash of ribbons and paper. This was the hard part. Jason was not good at this sort of thing. But it was for Elizabeth and he would do his best to make it turn out right. Lifting the doves carefully, he re-wrapped them in the thin Styrofoam sheet and then placed them over a strong layer of shining green paper. Taking a deep breath, he painstakingly went to work wrapping the present.

It took patience and time, but when he finished with the last bit of tape, the last curl of ribbon, the last paper bow, it looked--as he expected--not quite right. He'd seen Television shows on this sort of thing and the women demonstrating always made it look so easy.

He frowned.

Though nothing was out of place and all the lines were straight and properly taped, he couldn't help feeling a sort of earnestness, a heavy weight on his shoulder.

Insecurity crept up on him. What if she didn't like it? What if it just brought back bad memories? It was too late now. The present was wrapped and was going to stay that way until he gave it to her. Putting it away, he began the arduous task of getting ready for the party.

* * *

Trisha and Lucky walked through the doors that led to the party and immediately Sonny walked over to greet them. Not one for subtly or even tact, Trisha squealed in delight and caught the man in a tight hug. 

"Trisha, it's nice to see you again. You look very nice," he said, admiring her dress.

Not even a dead man could look at her and _not_ admit that she looked hot.

"Why, thank you, Sonny." She smiled then hit Lucky in the gut. "This is my friend, Lucky Spencer. You know his father, Luke. Well, you boys have fun! I'm going to mingle and see if I can pick up some rich geriatric."

"Have fun!" Sonny turned to the younger man and smiled, showing off clean, white teeth.

"So, you're Spencer's boy. How's your old man doing?"

Lucky glared at Trisha for the briefest of seconds before he turned his attention to the infamous man. "He's fine, got a postcard from him and mom last week."

"Running from someone again?"

"Just themselves. They're traveling the world for fun this time."

Lucky took the time, while Sonny pondered that explanation, to look at the man standing in front of him. His father kept a picture of him somewhere at the club and Lucky had often stared at it with fear while Luke filled his mind with stories from their past. Sonny didn't look that much older physically, but his eyes were not the same. There was something just below the surface, a sort of consuming agony that dwelled there. It just didn't fit with the image he'd had in his mind. Sonny was every bit as charismatic as his reputation but the callous coldness he expected to find just wasn't there.

"Laura is a fine woman. It was probably the best thing Luke ever did. Marrying her, I mean."

"Yeah, sure."

Sonny stopped his drink mid-way to his lips, catching sight of a lone boy snagging a champagne flute from one of the trays when a server walked by. Stalking his movements, he watched while the boy sat away from the rest of the crowd and sipped the drink in the corner.

"Listen, I'll talk to you later, Lucky," Sonny said absently, barely taking his attention away from the dark-haired boy.

"Yeah, sure thing." Truth be told, he was uncomfortable talking to the ex-mob boss. Though he hadn't been in the business for some years, his name still preceded him and it was a name to be feared. And even though he'd done nothing in their brief conversation to make Lucky think he was in danger, there was still some amount of trepidation on his part. Men like Sonny could snap at any second.

Setting down his own drink, Sonny walked toward the boy who looked oddly familiar; competing with people dancing while he made his way through the crowd.

Towering over the boy, he got an odd sense of déjà vu. "Hey, kid, why aren't you playing over there with all the other children?"

Not even bothering to look up, nor conceal the drink in his hand, the boy shrugged his shoulders with little effort. "Do I look like a whiney baby? I mean, look at all those little dweebs going to see Santa. Someone ought to tell them the guy's not real."

"Fair enough," Sonny countered, smirking.

Pulling up a chair, he sat down across from the boy and got his first real glimpse at him. What he saw shocked him. Dark hair slightly curled behind his ears, deep brown eyes and olive skin mirrored Sonny's own features. Sonny didn't look away. He kept his eyes trained on the boy's face.

"What kind of moron hires some dude to play Santa for a bunch of parentless bozo's anyway? Isn't that like giving them false hope? I mean, it's not like those rug-rats are going to see a happy Christmas this year," the kid went on, not feeling the slightest bit of unease while Sonny continued to stare at him.

"How old are you, kid?" he asked, when he finally realized the boy had stopped talking.

"Why, you gunna card me?" He smiled wryly, taking a long, deliberate sip of champagne.

Shaking his head, Sonny laughed. The kid had guts. He had to give him that. "You sure got a mouth on you."

Another smirk crossed its way onto the boy's face. "Yeah, Sister Mary-Thomas says I'll make a great politician with all my lies and cover-ups. So you goin' to bust me?"

"Nah, but I am going to take this off of you." Reaching over, he took the champagne flute out of the boy's hand.

The kid kicked his feet out and crossed his arms in an exaggerated manner. "Damn, man! You just had to go ruinin' all my fun."

"Sorry, had to do it," Sonny said to him, pointedly, and moved the glass onto a table just out of reach. "Now, are you going to tell me how old you are, or am I going to have to go ask--what was her name? Sister Mary-Thomas?"

"Shi- I mean, crap! That some sort of blackmail?" He eyed Sonny, skeptically.

"Figure it out, kid."

"Fine. Twelve." There was fire in his eyes, a silent challenge.

Raising an eyebrow, Sonny leaned back far in his chair and let out a low chuckle. "Awfully small for twelve. Try again."

"Jeez, Mister, can't put nothin' past you. Fine, ten," he admitted, then added, "but I'll be eleven in a coupla' months."

"You got a name?"

Stretching out, he mimicked Sonny's pose. "Sure, everyone's got a name."

"Well, what is it?"

"Nic."

"Is that the truth?"

"Sure. Short for Dominic."

Sonny's eyes widened. It was impossible. It just couldn't be. But there was this hope; this one instant when Sonny let himself consider the possibility that this kid could be his son. And then it was gone.

Dominic sat up straight, fixing his posture so he looked taller and puffed out his chest like a boxer. "Don't believe me? Check my birth certificate, says right there Dominic Alejandro Martinez. That's the only good thing my Mom ever got from my father. She used to say a strong name is one of the most important things there is. Without a strong name, people don't respect you."

Sonny's chest tightened. "So...what happened to your parents, kid? I noticed you said _used_ to." He held his breath. There could be something more to the kid than just a resemblance and a shared name with his dead son.

Letting his body relax, Nic took a deep breath. "Mom died 'bout a year back and dad's been dead since I was born."

Sonny's heart felt tight in his chest. Though he hadn't realized it, he'd been holding his breath in anticipation of the kid's answer and now watching the sadness break in waves from the boy, he regretted pushing the question at all. "That's a tough break."

Nic nodded, his eyes darting to the young children still enthralled with Santa. "I guess some people got it a lot worse though. It's not so bad. The Sister's ain't too bad and I get away with a lotta shi- stuff. So what's your deal?"

"What do you mean?"

"You got kids? You know someone to boss around, other than a punk kid you come across at some lame party?" There was humor in his tone, a slight rapport beginning to take shape.

"No. No kids," he answered quietly. "I-I had a son once and a wife."

Nic's face hardened, his eyes narrowed. "What happened to them? You walk out on them or something?"

Sonny took in a long, shaky breath. "No. I... They died."

"Oh, sorry, Mister," Nic said in a soft, sincere voice.

"Yeah, me too."

Easing off the chair, the boy stood to his full height--which wasn't more than three-and-a-half feet.

"Well, I better go, Sister Margaret promised me I could stay up late if I actually looked like I was trying to fit in. See ya later...?"

"Sonny."

"See ya later, Sonny."

"Bye, Nic."

The resemblance was remarkable. Even the way his hair curled just slightly in the back when it was too long. Sonny remembered all the times Brenda told him he needed a haircut, but then changed her mind and told him she liked to run her fingers through his curls. There was just something about the boy that made Sonny want to do something--to connect with him in some way. He couldn't explain it, but he knew he had to try.

* * *

Elizabeth finally made it to the party, her hosed legs cold from exposure and her cheeks rosy. Settling her coat and scarf with the other party guests belongings, she took a step into the room. Looking over the party, it took her a moment to locate Jason. 

She admired him from across the room. Her face hidden behind a large plastic Christmas tree she'd helped Father Max set up a few days before. It was obvious he was uncomfortable and unaccustomed to the constrictive tie around his neck. It was hard to suppress her smile while she watched him tug at the black knot and finally give up a moment later when it refused to loosen. His expression was a notch away from grim while he scanned the crowd. She wasn't certain what--or who--he was looking for, but only hoped that she was it.

His attention diverted, Jason barely felt the slight tug on his pant leg, it appeared, but a second later he was squatted down face-to-face with a curious four-year-old boy. Even from where she was, Elizabeth could see the fondness in the child's eyes as Jason leaned down and picked up the laces of his tiny shoe. With patience and a hint of a smile Jason listened to the nonsensical chatter while he tied the shoe with a perfect loop and then began on the next one. A fit of giggles erupted from the child while Jason entertained him with silly faces and tickled his tummy. With a light hug that made Jason's cheeks flame red, the boy scurried away. He looked more relaxed when he stood and Elizabeth felt a little guilty about watching him.

The party was in full swing. Decorations hung from the wooden rafters of the church basement, tinted in colors of silver, green, and red. A jolly fat man playing the roll of Santa collected presents by the armload and offered them to the excited younger children, while the older ones--who'd probably given up on the notion of St. Nick long ago--offered help to those not coordinated enough to remove the wrapping paper themselves.

Off to the corner one young boy of about nine, maybe ten, sat by himself watching the scene with morbid fascination. His head was turned and Elizabeth could only make out his profile, but there was something familiar about him, something she couldn't quite place. When he turned, she caught a brief glimpse of his face. Her breath caught in her throat.

The look in his eyes was akin to lamentable sadness. That's when everything clicked into place. The boy looked like the sketch she'd drawn, the one of Dominic. And his eyes were haunted, the same way Sonny's eyes tended to appear when he was thinking about his past. The resemblance was too surreal. Then, to complete the out-of-body experience, Sonny appeared and sat down with the boy.

The picture they presented could have been taken from a Norman Rockwell painting. It would be called "father scolding mischievous son" she thought, watching as Sonny took the liquor from the boy. The strongest urge to paint crept up on her.

Twisting around to get a better look at the pair, she barely saw Jason walking toward her. It wasn't until he was three-feet away, looking debonair, that she fully realized his presence. She'd thought he looked good from across the room, but up close was a whole other ball game. Old black and white movies flashed to mind. The kind where heroes waltzed in and saved the day with little effort, looking as cool as a cucumber when doing so, flooded her imagination. It was hard to swallow.

"J-Jason," she choked.

His smile was a little shy.

Elizabeth picked up one of the chocolate treats from the buffet table for a distraction. She nervously drew it to her mouth and nibbled.

Jason took the time to study her. She looked amazing in a simple black skirt and blouse with a sheer back over a tank top. He'd never seen her look so sexy. In fact, he'd never seen her in so little clothing in all the months he'd known her. It was going to be a long, torturous night. Especially, when he watched her tongue flick out and dab at the chocolate crumbs on her lips. Damn, he wanted to taste her kiss.

"I didn't think so many people would be here," Elizabeth said, avoiding eye contact while she watched nameless faces on the dance floor.

Jason reached into his coat pocket and produced the decadently wrapped present he'd spent the afternoon fussing over. He cleared his throat. Getting Elizabeth's attention, he offered her the green and red package.

Setting down a second chocolate tart, Elizabeth looked at him a little shocked.

"For me?"

Jason simply nodded and shifted his weight. His hands twisted in the inside of his suit jacket in anticipation. This was the moment of truth. She was either going to hate it and think he was insensitive for getting her such a present. Or she'd like it and thank him. Secretly, he hoped she would love the present. He almost couldn't watch.

Though she'd never taken the time to unwrap a present carefully, she thought it important to now. Slowly, she took strip after strip of tape from the shiny paper, already having set the red bow on the table beside her purse. Peeling the layers of protective Styrofoam, Elizabeth finally uncovered two perfect glass doves.

Gently she cupped them in her hands, admiring the handiwork and the brilliant red glass. Right away she noticed the insignia of the artist from Italy.

He'd remembered.

She couldn't believe it. The story about her grandfather and the red glass, that she'd only been allowed to keep for a few minutes, were important enough to him to be remembered. That thought warmed her through. And even when she tried to deny them, tears clouded her vision.

"Jason, this is... How did you…? I can't believe you did this for me. I can't believe you even remembered. They're perfect."

Elizabeth shook her head trying to take it all in. The fact that he had chosen doves had not escaped her notice either. Putting one hand on his forearm to brace herself she rose to her tip-toes and gave him a soft peck on his cheek.

Her lips just barely brushed his ear when she whispered, "thank you."

Jason's face was beet red when she pulled away. A smile curved his lips and she reciprocated with a low chuckle.

"Is there somewhere I can put them until after the party? I don't want them to get broken," she said softly.

Jason took her hands in his and took the doves one by one. The feel of rough skin against her smooth flesh bubbled up an overwhelming passion that flowed through her veins and poured into her stomach. It was unexpected, but not at all unwanted. In fact, when he pulled away she felt a sense of regret and emptiness.

"Don't take too long," she called after him.

He turned, looked her deliberately in the eye and smiled, slow and sexy.

After the incident with Nic, Sonny was feeling off-center. Not a lot of things made sense. If he thought about it rationally, he knew there was no way the boy could be his son. His son was dead.

Still, there was something so comfortable and natural between the kid and himself. Trying to figure a few things out, Sonny headed over to the far end of the dance floor, where it was relatively dark. He'd poured himself some scotch. It was one of the rare times that he let himself have a drink anymore. Tonight, he needed it.

"Sonny Corinthos."

Sonny kept his eyes on the twirling guests on the dance floor. "Miss Harper."

Trisha's grin was ripe and scandalous. "Hiding out at your own party?"

"Who's hiding?" he asked, meeting her eye.

"You," she said pointedly.

Sonny shrugged, considering it for a moment. "I just don't like to take the spotlight anymore. This night is to raise money, have a few drinks, a few laughs, that's all. People don't need me around to do that."

"I guess not," she said, picking up a flute of champagne from a passing tray. "Would you believe I lost my virginity to this song?"

Just having taken a sip of his own drink, Sonny sputtered some of the liquid and used his handkerchief to wipe off his chin and tie. Why was it that every time Trisha Harper was around, he was spitting on himself? Regaining his composure, he turned to her with disbelief in his eyes.

"You lost your virginity to Jingle Bells?"

"Mmm hmm," she purred seductively, saddling up to him like a cat in heat.

Trademark dimples formed in his cheeks. "I don't believe it."

Stepping back, she gave him an impish wink. "You're right. It was My Way, by Frank Sinatra—long story, trust me—but it was worth it to see that look on your face. So...what song did you lose it to?"

Blushing, only slightly, Sonny's dimpled grin lit up the room. "I can't remember."

"Oh, please. You're old, but you're not _that_ old," she said, waving him off.

Holding up his hands, he gave in. "Alright, alright. It was Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe, by Barry White. I know it sounds cliché but the song had just come out, so it was new to me."

"You're kidding me! That song came out in, like, 1974! That would make you around-"

"Fourteen," he finished for her. "I kid you not. That downbeat ain't no joke." He laughed.

"Well then... I just don't have a witty reply for that. Fourteen?! Really?" Then she laughed despite herself.

Sonny cleared his throat and took a deep breath, settling into the quiet. He'd never seen Trisha so mute before and it amused him. "Elizabeth is a really good dancer. Look at her out there," Sonny pointed out, giving Elizabeth a short wave.

"Her grandmother made her take dancing lessons when she moved here… Something to do with being a proper young lady or some horseshit like that! If you ask me, I'd say she looks uncomfortable," Trisha snorted, taking another sip of bubbly.

"Maybe she's just nervous."

Trisha shook her head, catching sight of Jason behind them. The wheels began to turn in her head. Maybe she could help things along with Jason and Elizabeth without _technically_ meddling.

"No, if she was nervous, she would look down and maybe steal glances at him. She'd play it smart and look at him through her eyelashes, when he thought she was looking somewhere else. She's not doing any of that. You see the ways she turns her head to the side and doesn't even bother to look at him? And look how far apart they are!" Trisha glanced back to make sure Jason was still there and sure enough he was listening intently.

"Well, maybe-"

"Trust me. I'm an expert on body language!" Offering a casual look behind her, she checked out Jason's body language. Yep, he was definitely_ not_ liking the thought of Elizabeth being uncomfortable. God, she was good! "You don't just get a reputation like mine without earning it."

Sonny's eyes were shining with laughter. "And what reputation would that be?"

She licked her lips, fluttered her eyelashes dramatically and put on a fake accent that sounded not-so-much like French, though her goal was simply to seem sarcastically seductive and she pulled that off well. "Ask me when I'm a little drunker and maybe I'll show you."

Sonny chuckled. "Should I go rescue her?"

"No!" Watching Jason about ready to go rescue Liz himself, Trisha grabbed Sonny's forearm. "I mean, no. She'll be okay." Taking in a relieved breath, she let go of him and pointed when Jason not so subtly whizzed by. "It looks like Jason's got a handle on things anyway."

Sonny's eyes narrowed, his lips twitching. "You set him up."

"Moi?" Blowing on her nails, she polished them off on the low vee off her dress. She was damn good!

"Coy is very becoming on you."

"Ah, and from what I've heard charming is your middle name. I'm glad to see you live up to it."

"Are you flirting with me?" Sonny took a step back to appraise her.

Trisha rolled her eyes. "Sonny, if you really have to ask, it has been too long. Don't worry, though. I'm only doing it to make Lucky jealous." She laughed, plastering a daring smile on her face while she waved over to Lucky who watched, seething, from across the room.

"You're a cruel one, Trisha Harper."

"Don't I know it!"

Elizabeth smiled, absently. She _was _trying to listen to the man she was dancing with while they twirled a little out of tune across the dance floor. But not much of what he said interested her.

"...but I don't believe in banks even though I made my money in stocks. You never can trust people with that kind of power. How about you?"

"Huh?" Did he just ask her a question? He was looking at her expectantly. Elizabeth cleared her throat and tried to come up with something reasonable to say. What had he been babbling on about for the past ten minutes? Oh yeah, stocks. "I don't own any stocks."

"Oh, that's too bad, just he other day I was saying..."

Tuning the rest out, Elizabeth looked over his shoulder and noticed Jason practically marching over to them. All at once, she felt relaxed and knew her time with the left-footed-money-flaunting-phony would be over soon.

"Jason," she sighed and stepped back from her partner when the song finally drew to a close.

"What?" the man asked, leaning down a little too close for her liking. She could smell his cheap collogue, expensive whiskey and the pungent twist of sweat. It was a bad combination.

Jason was beside, standing tall compared to the other man. Edging closer to Elizabeth, the older man backed off and locked eyes with Jason. Sensing the potential argument Elizabeth wedged her way between them and politely told the other man that she'd like to dance with someone else now. "But I had a lovely time," she offered in consolation.

The man grunted and headed off the dance floor with little more protest. A second later, she watched him lead a blonde with a bad dye job onto the floor and begin to groove out-of-synch to the beat.

Jason and Elizabeth stood side-by-side. There was a long moment when all they did was look at each other. The air seemed to crackle and churn with unspoken gratitude and something else she couldn't place.

"Dance with me?"

Her voice was low and raspy and, God help him, if he wouldn't like to hear her sound just like that waking up in the morning, in his arms.

He nodded slowly and let his hands find her waist, pulling her against him loosely.

Trisha watched from the sidelines with nearly unbridled glee.

Sonny found himself pulled into her game, watching them with enthusiasm.

"Now, look at the way Jason holds her. How his hands are on her waist and his fingers just brush her back. He likes her," she said, determined. "He likes her a _lot_."

It was a statement of definite fact, one that even Sonny had no right to argue with. "And how does she feel?"

Leaning in toward her counter-conspirator, Trisha spoke low. "Well, you see the way she stares up at him--like her eyes are half-open--she does that because she'd trying to figure out if she'd dreaming or not. She doesn't want to close her eyes because if it is a dream, he might vanish." She sighed dramatically. "At least that's what I'd be thinking! Now, you see the way her hand keeps lifting from his back, how it just hovers near his neck, barely brushing the tips of her fingers against his hair."

Sonny blinked. He tried to catch the details Trisha spoke about, even squinting his eyes to make the scene in front of him more clear. "Yeah, so?"

"She wants to kiss him." Her voice was barely above a whisper, like if she spoke it any louder she would break the spell.

"You can tell all that from one gesture?" Sonny turned his body into her, fascinated by her comments.

"I know Elizabeth. I can see it in her eyes. She's captivated by him. She doesn't shy away from him like she does with strangers. They look really comfortable. I haven't seen her that comfortable with a man since... Actually, I've never seen her that comfortable with a man. Oh, now this is interesting."

"What?" Putting down his drink, Sonny turned back to the couple, straining to find what was so fascinating now.

Trisha put her hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer so he could hear and no one else, while she spoke softly. "Look how he leans down as if he's trying to hear her better."

"But he's not?"

"Of course not!" she admonished, "his cheek keeps brushing her hair and every time without fail his eyes lose a little more focus and he has to pull back. You know what that means, right?"

Sonny wiped his handkerchief over his forehead. "I'm almost afraid to ask."

"He wants to kiss her, too. And we are going to make it happen!" Her voice was calm and even. There was no room to mistake her statement as fact.

Sonny's eyes went wide with surprise. "We are?"

"Follow me." Taking his arm, she practically dragged him along.

When Trisha had a plan, she didn't stop until it was executed and got the desired result.

Jason's body felt so warm and smooth next to hers, she couldn't help letting out a tiny murmur of approval while they swayed on the dance floor in perfect time with the music and each other.

Had he ever danced? No, men like Jason didn't dance. They swayed. They carried their partners across the floor as if they owned the room. Keeping rhythm wasn't important. Holding their partners so they felt like the song was being played just for them was the true goal.

No, men like Jason didn't dance. They floated. They weren't too graceful nor overextended. They were simply there to make their women look good. And he did. He held her close. Close enough that she could feel the beating of his heart against her cheek and close enough to feel cherished.

She moved herself closer still, pressed into him more firmly and sighed. The thudding in his chest rose and if she could look into his eyes she would see that they were open wide and the blue in them was a sparkling blend of confusion and contentment.

His hands rested on her back, gently tracing circles against her skin through her sheer blouse. It felt _really_ good. Better than good. Not quite indecent but sinful almost, like he was memorizing her skin through a layer of fabric. It was Elizabeth's mind that progressed into the idea that one day there would be nothing separating them and it would be skin against skin.

He had slow hands. Hands that felt too sensual, too skilled, for such a large, strong man. They were presents and he gifted her body with their touch; so light and soft, it felt like hot rain on a summer night. Did she know the touch of a man could be so gentle? No, she couldn't of. Women only realize that fact when they experience for the first time the warmth of love wrapped into fingertips and palms. The stroking of love from deep within another onto thyself is at first frightening and then all together addictive. She was becoming an addict the slower his hands dragged over her skin.

This was so much better than any dance she'd ever shared...and she'd danced a lot in her short life. But she wasn't just dancing with anyone, she was dancing with Jason Morgan, the man she had come to trust and care for deeper than she knew she could. All at once it was frightening and exciting. The air felt charged with heat, magnetized almost. A shiver ran down her spine and he pulled her closer in reaction, wafting spicy cologne into the air with the action. She breathed it in, nuzzled her face against the starched lapel of his jacket and let her fingers come to rest against his chest above his heart.

Most of the time, she couldn't read him. His heart seemed bruised; hidden in the shadows for so long it was now afraid of light. But tonight, if it had been only for an instant, she had seen his innocence. The way he seemed so at ease with the children and how easily he danced with her, like they were meant to always be so close, confirmed that he had a softer side to him. That underlying boyishness and naivety that made him see the good in everyone had flashed in his eyes. For a brief moment, he was unguarded. And she liked it.

The smell of some type of fresh plant alerted them. Something was up. And with the way Trisha and Sonny were cowering around like a couple of school children, she knew they were up to no good. So when she looked up and noticed the large bouquet of mistletoe above them, Elizabeth was only mildly surprised.

"Looks like you two got caught under the mistletoe and you know what that means... You have to kiss! Right, Sonny?"

"It is tradition." Sonny said, playing along.

If looks could kill, Elizabeth would have maimed Trisha horribly with the fire in her eyes.

"You don't want to break a tradition, do you?" Trisha batted her eyelashes and smirked real wide.

Elizabeth looked down at her feet. Talk about awkward situations.

Sparing a glance up at Jason, she caught his eye. There was concern there and the tiniest hint of need. He wanted to kiss. Hell, she couldn't deny that she wanted to either. But being forced was another story. Then again, they were both willing. Ah, what the hell, they'd been skirting such opportunities for a while now, she was not going to let this one pass them up.

"Sure, if it's okay with Jason."

Hell yeah, he was okay with it! Jason's head snapped up and his eyes twinkled with joy. Finally, this moment was before them.

It was the middle of winter, but between them they didn't feel an ounce of cold. Even the draft from the doorway, as people came in and out, went unnoticed.

Elizabeth leaned forward, straining upward--even with the added inches of her heels she was too short for him.

Jason mimicked her actions, bringing his head down close to hers.

The smell of soft perfume and chocolate pervaded his senses and he wondered briefly if he'd imagined her tongue flicking out to moisten her lips. Then he didn't care.

Lips touched and the first word that came to mind was heaven. It was like a thousand bright lights kissing Elizabeth Webber. Everything was heightened. His ears perked up catching the low rumbling of his stomach from being empty. The slick sound of wet flesh. The rasp of material.

There was just the smallest hint of dark chocolate on her lips. It wasn't enough. The taste of sweetness was only hinted at by the brief contact, he wanted to open her mouth and let his tongue find all the other places that hid the richness of the cocoa treat. But before they could go any father than a simple brush of lips, someone cleared their throat.

A little sheepishly they stepped back from each other and faced their friends respectively.

Trisha's smile was transfixed to her face and even Sonny was having trouble hiding a smirk.

"Happy now?" Elizabeth squeaked, wondering if that was actually her voice and had it always sounded so scratchy.

"Very!" Trisha exclaimed, taking Sonny by the arm and leading him away. "Let's leave them alone now."

Elizabeth turned back to Jason, slightly dazed. "I need some air. Want to go outside for a minute?" she requested.

Jason nodded and let her lead the way.

"That was hot!" Trisha said to Sonny. "Are you still skeptical?"

"I have to admit, it was a good idea and maybe they did need a gentle push in the right direction, but I still feel a little guilty that we tricked them into it."

"I didn't see them complaining."

"That's true," Sonny said, humorously.

"I think I'll go find Lucky. I've made him suffer enough. I might even dance with him." She winked.

Sonny shook his head.

"Be nice to that guy. He hasn't stopped looking at you the entire night," he chastised.

"He's overprotective."

"He looks at you like he's in love with you."

There was a seriousness that entered the conversation now that Trisha was not entirely comfortable with yet. Things with Lucky were still too complicated. "I think he's just constipated," she said, sardonically.

That was her ammo. Whenever things got serious, go for the joke.

"I know that look," Sonny reassured her. "Not a lot of people are lucky enough--no pun intended--to have someone in their life look at us like that. Don't throw it away. You might turn around one day and be lost without it."

Trisha closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Even if a person that barely knew him could tell Lucky's feeling for her, it didn't make her open up to her own yet.

"I know," she said and walked away.

"Look at all the stars," Elizabeth said, hugging her arms around herself from her place on the sidewalk, beside the church.

Jason stepped up behind her and wrapped his jacket around her shoulders.

"Thanks," she whispered, still gazing at the tiny white lights in the blackened sky.

Jason moved around her so he was ahead of her. He stuffed his hands into his dress pants, pulling the material tight over his butt.

Elizabeth watched. Her mouth went dry. God, he was sexy. She scanned his torso, taking in every inch of hidden muscle, every curve of defined power and every sharp turn of flesh-covered bone. He definitely was a force to be reckoned with.

The air was crisp, cool. It cut her breath in puffy clouds of moisture. She didn't feel cold though. It could have been the heat that she still felt in the lining of Jason's jacket or it could be that looking over at him, he didn't seem affected either. She could almost feel the warmth coming off of him.

Deciding that, for at least one night, she could be bold. And, after he'd given her such a perfect gift, Elizabeth stepped closer to Jason, an inch at a time, until she was within reach, and wrapped her arms around him from behind. She buried her face between his shoulder blades and felt the heat strongly against her cheek. Her hands rested on his sculpted stomach, feeling the hard pull of muscle and immeasurable strength there. Something told her he'd let her hold him like this always, if she wanted, when he relaxed and let out a shallow breath.

Turning, he brought her around so she faced him. His fingers found their way into her hair and played with the silky strands. Loosening the clip at the back of her curls, her hair cascaded onto her shoulders. He was surprised to see just how wild and exotic she looked when it framed her face and partially covered her neck.

"Jason." She didn't know why she said his name; didn't really know why she'd spoke at all, but something seemed to click in his eyes. A twinge of fear went through her before she relaxed and remembered that Jason would never hurt her.

Jason leaned down, caressing her cheek, letting his thumb skim her bottom lip. She was perfect and soft and her mouth felt sinful under his skin.

Another scratching step on the pavement beneath them and she was firmly pressed in his arms. Her chest strained against his, rising and falling with a quick gasp of surprise. Nuzzling his smooth, shaved cheek against hers, Jason breathed her in. He let his mouth hover over her skin; not quite touching the alabaster of her neck with the tip of his nose.

Elizabeth wasn't the kind of woman you just _took_. Jason knew that. Elizabeth was the kind of woman you savored. And then the moment for waiting--for sampling--was over and he was kissing her.

Her mouth was wet and gentle over his and her lips were velvety soft. His tongue stroked inside her mouth and there it was…that bittersweet taste of chocolate and her. It was hot and strong, a taste so surprisingly arousing he wondered how he'd managed to go this long without it. His senses were exploding like the thousand different stars lighting up the night sky above them. New sensation after new sensation curled into his stomach while he continued to taste her, enjoying each small murmur she let out.

This kiss was for them. Not because of tradition, or because people were waiting and watching, but because they wanted it.

On some level _needed_ it.

With a sweep of his tongue into her mouth, he coaxed her deeper; demanded that she participate. That she let go. Follow him to a place they were both scared to go.

The moment spun out of control. The need became frenzied. The actions clumsy. The heat, choking.

His lips moved over hers with skill and she responded in kind. There was something sensual with the cold air grasping their skin and the hot intensity of skin-on-skin binding them together.

Her hands moved across his back, up his shoulders to his nape, feeling wisps of hair there and twisting them around her fingers. She needed to hold on to him. To hold him close for fear she'd fall with the intensity of it. Elizabeth could barely hear the hard thumping of music from inside the church doors. The only sound that mesmerized her was their heavy breathing.

Kissing Jason was unlike anything she'd ever felt in her life. She was in the moment, he demanded that of her. He wouldn't let her shrink away or let him take over. He made her strong, bold. He made her feel sexy and wanted and she never expected that.

There was stunned arousal in her eyes when he pulled back, as if she hadn't known that there was something so powerful between them before. All that wonder was now tangible.

Ignoring the deep burn in his body, Jason smoothed his hand down Elizabeth's cheek and placed a sweet kiss on her forehead and then brought her close again. They stayed like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other's arms. Not thinking. Not overanalyzing. Just…succumbing to the moment.

"Do you know how long I've wanted to do that?" It wasn't really a question, not one she needed answered. It was more of an affirmation that what they'd done wasn't wrong. That she'd wanted it. That she'd longed to kiss him.

Forever, he thought candidly. He'd waited that long for a woman like Elizabeth Webber to come into his life. And he'd waited forever for a kiss that perfect.

Elizabeth chuckled softly and ran her hands through her hair, self-consciously. "I'm just going to go to the bathroom and fix my hair. If I go in there like this, Trisha will take one look at me and pretty much guess what happened. I'll meet you in there, okay?"

She didn't wait for his reaction. She needed distance and just a little time away from him before things became too heated, too intense.

Jason stood outside for a long moment just by himself. He needed time to cool down. Needed time to gain his composure, and get back some semblance of control over his throbbing body.

He stepped back into the hall and immediately was assaulted by a less-than-sober woman.

"I've been waiting to dance with you all night!" the blonde squealed, sinking her nails into his forearm, not giving him a chance to get away.

Jason took a look toward the bathroom door and then another down at the blonde who was already pulling him along.

He hoped Elizabeth would come out soon and rescue him.

Jason kept his eye on the door, not the least bit distracted by the drunk in his arms. Couldn't she tell his mind was somewhere else? Why did things like this always happen to him? He didn't want to be rude. A lot of people were there to donate money and the last thing he needed to do was piss off a thirty-something, washed-up beauty queen if it meant the difference between helping some innocent child and not. He'd just have to grin and bear it for a few more minutes until Elizabeth helped him out…or the song ended, whatever came first.

"Mistletoe!" The blonde pushed herself against Jason and pressed her lips against his, despite his protests.

Shit! Donor or not, this was crossing the line.

Elizabeth smiled down at herself, smoothing out her skirt. She opened the door and stared ahead at the dance floor. Her eyes welled with tears. Her lips quivered and her knees shook. There, in the middle of the crowd, Jason was involved in an intense lip-lock with the tall, skinny blonde she'd earlier praised for taking the drunk accountant off her hands.

There was nothing to thank her for now.

Jason pushed the woman away and wiped his mouth. Dammit! He just hoped Elizabeth hadn't seen. There was only so much he could explain without speaking.

Stumbling at the coat rack, she almost ran into Sonny.

"Elizabeth? Is something wrong?" he asked, taking in her appearance.

"No," she practically whispered, then cleared her throat. "I think I just had too much to drink," she lied, not having taken a drop of alcohol. "Oh, I-I almost forgot… I have to make an appearance at my grandmother's annual Christmas party. I'm really sorry, but I promised my family I'd stop by. You don't mind, do you?"

"Well, I guess not. A lot of the guests with children have started to leave already, but maybe you can come back later."

Elizabeth rubbed her neck, trying not to think about how Jason had touched her earlier and to focus on Sonny. "I don't know. I don't think so, Sonny. I'm kind of tired."

"Alright then, I'm not going to force you." Sonny leaned in and gave her a hug.

She remained stiff and tried to control every urge in her that told her to just break down and collapse in her friend's arms. But she couldn't. She had to be strong.

She was foolish. She knew that now.

Everything she thought had been happening between her and Jason was just physical. It was all based on need. None of it was about a relationship or even love. He didn't owe her anything and she certainly didn't need Sonny's pity for realizing her mistake too late.

* * *

Thoughts of Dominic had yet to leave his mind. He was sure there was something he could do to help him. He just had to find one of the women the boy had referred to, possibly to put in a request. Spotting the woman in black, Sonny gently touched her elbow. "Sister Mary-Thomas, is it?" 

"Yes, that's right," she answered pleasantly.

"I wanted to ask you about one of the children in your care. He's about ten—well, almost eleven-years-old, dark hair, dark eyes… I think his name is Dominic. Nic, for short."

"Yes, Mr. Corinthos. He's a clever boy, that one. He's younger than he claims. Though, by how much, we're not really sure. Sometimes the children that come to us don't really confide the whole truth. They've been hurt, you see. So, he's small, but smart for his age. He's not much on joining in with the other kids, but he gets into enough trouble on his own," she said, laughing.

Sonny scratched his head, trying to broach the subject delicately. There was no telling how a woman of God would take to his interest in one of her pupils with his background in the mob and all. "I just wondered if there was anything I could do for him. Maybe be like a mentor or something. Take him to ball games or something like that?"

There was no judgment in Sister Mary-Thomas' eyes when she looked back at Sonny. "You want to take Nic under your wing? I'm sorry, Mr. Corinthos, but Nic doesn't take kindly to strangers. Ever since his mother died and he came to live with us, he's been a handful. He trusts me and Sister Margaret and that's pretty much it. It's hard enough to get him out of his room, let alone talk to anyone. I just don't see you being successful with him. Trust me we've tried many different approaches."

"Are you sure we're talking about the same boy?"

"There's no other Nic under my charge, Mr. Corinthos."

"That's strange."

"What is?"

"This evening, he and I… We talked. He told me about his mother."

"That is odd," Sister Mary-Thomas agreed. "It took Nic a long time before he came around and began to confide in me. There must be something about you that he trusts. It seems maybe being a mentor could be beneficial. He's never had a father-figure and a boy around his age really needs someone to look up to. Tell you what, let me think it over and discuss it with Nic and I'll get back to you on it."

Sonny reached out and took her hand. "I would appreciate it, Sister. Thank you."

"I should be the one thanking you, Mr. Corinthos. This benefit has raised a substantial amount of money that is really going to help us all out. So, thank you."

"Sonny? I hate to interrupt, but I can't find Elizabeth. Lucky and I were going to give her a ride home. Do you know where she went?"

Trisha tried to remain calm, but her eyes betrayed her worry. Something was definitely wrong.

Sonny shook his head. "No, that can't be right. She left a little while ago. She said she'd forgotten that she promised to stop in at her family's house."

"The only family Elizabeth has around here is her grandmother and she would be at the hospital entertaining all her doctor and nurse friends. She specifically told Elizabeth not to go because she was afraid she would embarrass her. How was she going to get there?"

Sonny rubbed his chin. None of it made any sense. Why would Elizabeth lie to him? "I-I didn't ask. I assumed that she was going with you. Why would she-"

Trisha reached out and took hold of Sonny's forearm to silence him. "It doesn't matter now. I'm going to go look for her."

"Wait. I'll get Jason." Sonny watched Trisha scurry off toward Lucky. There was something urgent in her step. Sonny felt his stomach drop. He had a bad feeling something awful was about to happen.


	13. Chapter 13

Title: Remembering Tibet  
Author: Kat/Yuppiekat  
Rating: R  
Disclaimer: I don't own...well, anything pertaining to GH.  
Summary: This is an Alternate Universe fic. (And, possibly, a strange one at that.)-- The past haunts Jason and Elizabeth. In order to heal, they'll need each other.  
Notes: There are a few things that you should know about this fic... This fic was started (I believe) in 2002, but time constraints and frustration about the show stalled the writing of this fic. I am in the middle of re-reading and revising all the chapters. I'm not sure how often I can post. I wish I had more time to work on this, but you'll have to settle for a sporadic posting schedule. The character of Lucky is, well, very out of character. I'm aware of that. There is also a lot of head hopping in this fic... Um, sorry about that.

* * *

The path was darker than she remembered. The wind was so cold. She couldn't stop shaking. A light snow began to dust the already white ground. 

Elizabeth quickened her steps. All she wanted was to get home and cuddle up with a good book and forget the utter humiliation engulfing her heart.

The pain welled up like an expanding balloon inside the chamber of her heart, tightening her chest and making breathing difficult. The night had been perfect. Everything had been so wonderful. The dance… The kiss… The present…

Oh no! She'd forgotten her glass doves.

As hurt as she was, she didn't want to leave them.

Liz turned, stumbling when a shadowy figure stepped out of the darkness, intention in each calculated step. Her eyes strained in the darkness and the pain in her chest turned from hurt to pure terror. She was face-to-face with Paul Callahan.

"Webber! Funny running into you."

She swallowed hard.

"What are you doing here?" She looked around, panic striking her at an alarming rate. There was no one around and now she was berating herself for not accepting a ride from Sonny.

"I was waiting for you," he said, simply.

"Why?" she asked, breathing heavily into the wind. Her breath hung like a small cloud for a minute and then fizzled into the air.

"I thought it would be nice. You don't look too happy to see me." He smiled.

It made her stomach turn.

What was she going to do? She couldn't head back now. If she ran, he would only catch up to her and then what would happen? Somewhere deep inside, she knew she was trapped.

When she didn't answer him, he took it as a cue and kept on talking, "I was thinking about this Nun thing, Lizzie."

"Oh, yeah?" Her eyes darted for any possible escape route…or at least someone that could help her in case the situation turned ugly.

"Mmm hmm. I was thinking it's a bad idea," he said, nonchalantly, not yet giving away his intentions.

"Is it?" Elizabeth asked, trying to give herself more time to come up with a plan. She was sure he was about to lay some filthy proposition on her and she didn't want to stick around and let him play out his fantasies.

"Well, of course. I mean, look at you. Those lips… That body... I just don't think the other Nuns would appreciate it quite the way I would."

Liz gave a nervous laugh. She wasn't about to tell him that there weren't even any Nuns at the monastery and so far she had only seen a few men who were far from priests, save for Max.

"I swear, Lizzie, the things we could do together..." He left it there, leading her to imagine vile thoughts.

She could feel the bile burning her throat and nearly stumbled from the dizziness that was now paralyzing her. "What do you want?" she asked in a meek voice, trying not to show fear.

"I think you know what I want," he barked down at her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her towards him. "We're going to have fun now."

Once, when Elizabeth was home sick with the flu, she watched a documentary about prize fighting dogs. They were put into extreme conditions. In some of the worst cases the owner took the dogs, locked them up, starved them, tortured them, until eventually the dog was trained to hate. They were beaten until their temperament became so distorted that all they wanted to do was kill, to be vicious, and to do unspeakable acts. She had to change the channel when she saw footage of what these dogs were capable of. They could become so agitated that they tore one of their own breed to shreds, locking onto its neck until they ripped out the other's throat.

Men could be like dogs.

The tears pricked her eyes, and when she blinked the hot drops fell against her cheeks, turning to ice. "Don't do this," she whispered.

He held her tight against his chest and she could already feel the labored breathing of him against her ear. She was frozen and when she opened her mouth to scream, no sound came. He kissed her roughly, biting into her lip and producing blood. She tried to struggle, but lost her footing and tumbled to the ground.

"No!" she cried, when his body covered hers.

He was heavy and she could smell alcohol on his breath.

"Don't fight me, you little bitch! You'll only make it worse!" he yelled, slapping her open-handed, square on her cheek.

Cupping her stinging face with her hand, she looked into the eyes of her attacker. They weren't the eyes of a man any longer instead they were vicious and full of hate. He was like a rabid dog, foaming at the mouth. She thrashed underneath him, willing the inevitable not to come.

"Please, God!" she cried.

He punched his fist into her eye, making her see stars.

He covered her mouth while he undid her winter jacket.

It wasn't until he was on the last button that she bit down hard on his hand, making him jerk away. She squirmed and launched her knee into his groin.

He rolled over grabbing himself.

For a moment she was free, already halfway to her feet, before he pulled her back down.

He held both hands now in his larger, stronger one.

There was nothing she could do, despite how hard she tried to move.

His hand touched her, everywhere, creating a dirty trail on her clothes.

"No! Not again!" she cried, when his knee went between her legs forcing them open.

"Shut up!" he barked, ripping open her shirt sending buttons scattering over the thin layer of snow.

Her heart sped. She was so afraid.

So alone.

And so afraid.

He touched her bare skin and she sucked in her breath and fought the urge to throw up. She closed her eyes. Now she wanted to die. Even if she survived this ordeal, she would never forget his scaly hands on her body.

She sobbed.

Her back was wet from the icy ground and she was starting to lose herself to the darkness that told her to give up. She couldn't live through this again. And there was so much she wanted… So much to live for… It was that thought that pushed into her brain, giving her a surge of energy. She again kicked him hard, this time hitting his shin. Using his momentary shock to her advantage, she fought him to release her.

Crawling out of his grasp, she was aware he was coming after her. She could feel his rough touch on her legs pulling her back down, but she would not give up.

Not this time.

He slammed his fist into her back and sent her hard to the ground. Rolling, she slid hard down a hill and smashed the back of her head on a rock buried in the ground.

He was above her now and she could make out his profile only faintly while her eyes filled with tears. She had nothing left. All her strength and sense had been used up. He knelt by her side, yanking her hair and pulling her toward him.

"You really are a stupid cunt, aren't you?!"

With all the strength she could muster, she raised her head and looked him in the eyes.

"I hate you! Go to hell!"

She prepared herself for the blow and took it gracefully in the stomach. Doubled over in pain, she finally vomited on the pure, clean white snow, before collapsing to her side.

He was over her again, undoing her skirt and fidgeting with the clasps that held it in place. His dull nails dug into her skin and she cried.

She closed her eyes tight, praying for some type of divine intervention. The sound of her zipper on her skirt being undone crushed her and she pulled herself inward, trying to repel the situation from her brain. The pressure of him against her made her swear violently and she couldn't breath.

Then all of a sudden she could. Opening her frightened blue eyes, she could distinctly make out two figures wrestling in the snow but not much else. Her eyes grew heavy and although she fought it, she felt herself slip into a foggy sleep.

* * *

Jason launched at the man when he heard muted sobs from the roadway. 

He had been late tonight. Following Elizabeth home had become a habit that only he and Sonny knew about. It was the only reason Sonny let her walk home alone. He just wanted to protect her and knew she was too stubborn to allow him to do it with her knowledge. But tonight it didn't matter because by the time he realized she had already left, it had been almost twenty minutes.

He rushed out the door, jogging down the plowed path and couldn't see a sign of her. Just past the gates, he saw her small boot prints and then found another set beside hers. The two converged and from then on there were no more prints.

He had a bad feeling. Pain ripped through his chest and seized his heart. If anything happened to her…

He moved off the path and down the hill where he heard noise.

"No! No! Not again!"

As if her voice actually physically hit him, Jason made out Elizabeth's strangled plea. He raced down the hill and threw the large man off of her. There was no time to make sure she was okay because the man was already lunging towards him. They rolled on the ground, each getting in jabs, until Jason got the upper hand yanking the man up only to hit him hard in the gut, followed by a kick to the head and a left hook.

If Jason had never felt rage before, he knew this was it. Even when the other man lay on the ground, protecting his face from Jason's fast fist, he couldn't stop. He kicked him in the ribs, back and shoulder. The anger had a stronghold on Jason and the only thing that stopped his tunnel vision was the small moan her heard from Elizabeth while she struggled to move.

Once satisfied that the man was unconscious, he stepped over him and went to Elizabeth's side.

"Elizabeth..." he whispered quietly.

It was only one word, but it meant everything.

Her eyes fluttered open and she focused on Jason's darkened eyes. He touched her cheek that was already swollen. She flinched and he quickly took his hand away.

A cloudy haze was beginning to take her over and she found her eyes growing heavy. She didn't want to close them. She wanted to stay awake, to ask this man before her why he had done what he had. No one had ever done such a thing for her. In all this time she thought he hated her, thought he might think she was obnoxious and rude but he saved her when she needed to be saved. It had to mean something, but before she could analyze it to death she felt her brain muddle and the dense fog claimed her once again.

Jason watched her, saw the confusion on her face and his heart ached for her. Slipping one strong hand under her neck, being mindful of her bruises, and the other under her short legs, he hoisted her against his body and rose from the ground, where he had been crouched beside her.

She was so small. So very light that he carried her as if she weighed nothing. The entire walk back to the house, he couldn't take his eyes off of her. He watched her face, his stomach clenching when her eyebrows furrowed together and tears slipped down her cheeks. He worried that the pain was too much for her and that she may have a concussion.

Once they were back at the house, he busted in through the front door, holding Elizabeth close to his chest. The house was warm and quiet and he went straight up the stairs and down the hall. He walked slowly until he came to his bedroom door. Easing it open, he tried not to jostle the tiny woman in his arms. Succeeding, he rested her on the bed softly.

He pulled the torn blouse together, covering her up as best he could. He didn't want to undress her. He didn't think that was right after what had just happened. She wouldn't have wanted another invasion like that, so he simply wrapped her tightly in wool blankets.

She was so fragile. His hand hesitated over her cheek, itching to touch her skin. To make sure she was okay.

How could anyone do such things to her? Jason felt the dizzying anger rise within him and clamped his hands into deep fists by his side.

Going into the bathroom, he wet a washcloth with lukewarm water and then returned to her. The dirt on her knees and arms were quickly wiped away with patiently slow strokes. When he came to the dark purple circle under her eye that spread to her cheek, he winced. It looked swollen and painful. Tracing the shape of her jaw, he moved toward her marred skin.

She was so very soft and cool under his rough heated touch that he felt like he was invading her privacy; her world, where she was so different from him…so much better. Her life was a place he didn't even try to understand for fear she would laugh at him. He had lived so long alone and kept himself so bottled up he didn't know how to get out of it. But here he was, watching her while she slept restlessly in his large bed, where she looked dwarfed but cozy and it just seemed so right.

Apprehensively, he brought the cloth against her eye and wiped away the blots of mascara that trailed her cheeks. He knew she had been afraid, so scared that no one would find her, but he had.

Thank God he had.

Running his thumb over her lip, he could feel the swelling already begin. Her lips had been so perfect, so full and pink, but now they were caked in dark crimson blood and it made his eyes sting with tears. He didn't pretend to understand other men; didn't want to know what drove someone to such extreme measures, but knew he could never be that kind of man.

"Jason?"

Jason looked over his shoulder, wiping his eyes before he made eye contact with Sonny.

"Is she…?" Sonny started, but then caught sight of the small figure in Jason's bed. He gripped the doorframe. "W-what happened?"

Jason shook his head, unable to ravel out the night's events. They had been so happy. They had kissed! And then…

Sonny swallowed and walked further into the room. "It's not your fault," he said, placing his hand on Jason's shoulder in a show of support. He let his hand drop to his side and bent his head. "If anyone's at fault… I should have known… Why did I let her leave like that?"

Jason stood, pulling Sonny with him to the corner of the room. "Don't."

Sonny's eyes widened. He struggled to form words.

Jason shook his head. Breaking his vow was the least of his concerns. "Can you—would you call the police for me? And-and a doctor."

"Jason. We should take her to the hospital."

"She wouldn't want… Please. I need to know she's okay," he said, hoarsely.

"Okay. Okay, I will."

"I'm…I'm going to stay with her until-until the doctor gets here."

Sonny nodded and left the room, sparing a glance back.

Jason took a deep breath, pulling the wooden chair from his desk beside the bed. He sat down and took Elizabeth's small hand in his, gently stroking her palm with his thumb. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth."

Sonny called the police first and a unit was dispatched to the house. Jason idly heard sirens and chatter, but it all sounded so far away.

It seemed like hours before anyone disturbed the silence of Jason's room. His eyes had been focused on Elizabeth's face in the dark room for so long that when Sonny turned on the lights, he blinked against the harshness and tiny circles of light formed, disrupting his vision.

"Jason, the doctor's here."

"Okay," he said, reluctantly standing and letting go of her hand.

"I'll take good care of her, Mr. Morgan," the doctor said, pushing his way inside the room and setting his bag on the bed, beside Elizabeth.

Jason stood at the door, leaning heavily against the frame.

"The police would like to take a statement," Sonny said.

"Right now? Can't it wait?" His eyes remained on Elizabeth. He watched the doctor frown and he grew tense.

"It would be better to get it over with now. I'll stay with Elizabeth."

Jason nodded and reluctantly left the room.

The police officer was waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

"Mr. Morgan," the first officer said, reaching out his hand.

Jason took his hand and shook it. He crossed his arms. "Did you find him?"

"Yeah. Unconscious, in the park. He was pretty worked over."

Jason's eyes narrowed. "Are you here to arrest me?"

"No," the officer said. "What you did…? I have a little girl at home and when I think of what kind of creeps are out there…" He cleared his throat and looked Jason in the eye. "As far as I'm concerned you deserve a medal. We've hauled him down to the station. He'll stay the night. Tomorrow, if he's lucky, we'll take him to the hospital, get him checked out. How is she?"

"The doctor's with her now."

"You should get him to take a look at you. Looks like you're going to have quite the shiner."

"I'm okay."

The officer nodded. "Okay. When she's ready? We're going to need a statement from her. We can wait to take yours then, too," he said, satisfied.

"I appreciate that."

"Take care."

"Thank you," Jason said, walking him to the door.

He watched the car pull away and closed the door. Immediately his concern went back to Elizabeth. Taking the steps two at a time, Jason paced outside his bedroom.

Sonny stood beside him.

The doctor pulled the blanket back over Elizabeth and turned toward the two men. "No sign of a concussion. I've given her a mild sedative to help her rest. She should sleep through the night. Tomorrow she may have a headache and she'll be sore, but as far as I can tell he didn't…" He caught Jason's eye and stopped, shaking his head. "She'll be all right," he amended.

"Thank you," Jason said, extending his hand to shake the doctor's hand. He brushed past Sonny and the doctor and took up his place beside her bed again.

"It's terrible. A terrible terrible thing to happen to a young lady. She's lucky he got there when he did," the doctor mussed, walking down the stairs with Sonny.

"Thank you, doctor," he said, handing him a stack of folded bills.

"That's not necessary."

"Take it, please," Sonny urged, placing the money in a pocket of his starched white lab coat.

Breathing deeply, Sonny waited until the doctor's car was down the road before he wandered into the living room, sitting down in one of the large leather armchairs and resting his face in his palms, trying to take it all in. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration and instead it turned into this vile, ugly thing. As hard as it was to admit Edward Quartermaine had a point. People did get hurt because of him.

Jason watched Elizabeth for the better part of the night. She stirred every so often but never woke up. When light finally broke through the blinds, he left her alone, knowing she would not want to wake with an audience.

* * *

Edward picked up the newspaper and scoffed, nearly choking on his brandy. "Look at this filth!" he said to his associate, "Corinthos is being praised in the headlines, being made to look like a martyr! Giving to charity now, but how easily they forget the man is a thug, a common, violent criminal! It's bad enough he got Brenda Barrett involved in his sick life, but now he's using my grandson, too!" 

"Mr. Corinthos is out of the business, sir."

"If you believe that, you're an even bigger fool than the idiots that wrote this God-awful article! Mark my words, he might not actually run the mob anymore, but nothing happens in this town without him knowing about it. And I'll bet he's swindled my grandson out of the fortune Lila left to him. God rest her soul! If she knew what that money was being used for..."

"We've checked the accounts, sir. That money hasn't been touched."

"That's what they want us to think. Corinthos has good accountants—men that can cover up these kinds of transfers without a paper trail."

"I assure you, the money hasn't been touched. Your daughter never wanted it, your son, being a man of God, had no use for it, and Jason seems to care even less."

"If he cares so little, why won't he sign it over to me?"

"I-"

"I'll tell you why! It's because that street-hood, Corinthos, has poisoned his brain against me! He's taken everything I've done to keep ELQ alive and twisted it around, so I'm the one that seems like the bad guy. Well, no more. I'll get that money, whatever way I have to."

"What are you planning, Mr. Quartermaine? You know another death is only going to bring on more suspicion. You're lucky they closed the case on your son. They ruled it an accident, but we both know..."

"Shut up, you incompetent little jerk! I know what happened. I have a new plan. What makes men weak, Russell?"

"I don't know, sir, what?"

"Women! Women make men weak. Lila--God rest her soul--prevented me from doing what I deemed necessary for years. I think my grandson finally has a weakness that he can't overcome," Edward snickered, flinging the paper and surveillance photos onto the buffet table, still set up with the morning's breakfast.

Russell picked up the photos and studied them. Sonny, Jason and a small brunette smiled back at him in black and white.

"Who's the girl?"

"The girl is the key to saving ELQ." Edward poured himself another drink, even though it was still too early. "That girl is my grandson's weakness," he said lowly, his voice deadly calm. "My plan should be coming together soon."

"What have you done?"

"What I had to."

* * *

Elizabeth jolted straight up in bed fighting with her covers. Looking around the room, she realized she was not at home. Tentatively, she pulled the blankets from around her legs and leaned over the side of the bed. Running her fingers through her matted hair, she winced at the large welt at the base of her neck. 

"Ugh." She was having a hard time focusing and her head felt cloudy.

Her shirt, she noticed, was torn, exposing the curve of her black bra. The night's events came back to her in an overwhelmingly fast force. She remembered a man's hands on her, touching her, trying to... The tears flooded her eyes and came down her pale cheeks in hard rivulets. Not just any man, someone she had once trusted. She always knew Paul was bad news.

Why hadn't she been more careful? Damn! Why had she walked alone at night? Why hadn't she let Sonny drive her to her house? Because if she had, she would have been caught in a big fat lie! She remembered. It all seemed so silly now. Silly and useless. Strong, independent women didn't need to lie to shield themselves from the hurt. To mask their emotions so other people didn't know how deeply their wounds ran. And she'd thought she'd worked through all of this. Tricked herself into believing she was past the powerlessness, the emptiness.

Wait! Where was she?

Catching herself, she brought her hand to her mouth to cover the gasp that would surely escape.

She looked around the plain room. There were no personal items, nothing to tell her who lived here. Just some books in the far corner propped against the dresser, a leather chair, muddy running shoes, a small table and the bed she had slept in, was all that filled the space.

She stood, a little unsteady on her feet, feeling the deep cold of the floorboards against her soles. The chill raced up her spine and made her tremble, but she held herself together nonetheless. She promised herself she would not freak out until she had all the facts. She was here for a reason. Obviously someone had brought her here, but her mind was mush and she couldn't remember a damn thing after knocking herself out after Paul Callahan dove on top of her.

Stepping across the hardwood floor, she noticed the neatly folded pile of clothes by her feet. She picked them up and studied them, hugging them close to her chest. They were warm and soft and comforting.

When she entered the bathroom, she didn't anticipate the sight that met her. Didn't want to look, in fact, but felt compelled to anyway. It took less than a second. Less than a second to see that how she felt on the inside was matched by her outward appearance. The tears traced old tracks, salty lines of skin that were swollen and battered. Studying herself, she could only see a stranger. A person that was damaged and broken and weak. It felt odd to touch her skin and realize it was _her_ that was bruised and bloody.

"Oh, God," she whispered to no one but herself.

Turning, she saw the shower and with caution she took off her damaged, dirt-stained clothes, checking and rechecking that she'd locked the door. Knowingly alone and still afraid to strip off the last vestiges of her pride, the clothes came off painstakingly slow, exposing new bruises, new pain. She touched her skin; her thighs and calves, her arms and neck, her breasts and stomach and then lower, biting her lip. She thought of what _would_ have happened, what _could_ have happened and what _did_ happen. Gripping the sink, she braced herself from falling.

All she wanted was to feel clean again. Stepping into the shower, she drew the curtain closed. Shutting her eyes she took a deep, cleansing breath and braced herself. The water was hotter than it should have been, stinging her scrapped knees and cheek.

A new bar of soap sat on the ledge of the tub. She picked it up and greedily ran it over her body, pressing harder than she intended. The bruises were not just on her face and knees, but were also imprinted on her ribs and shoulders. She was a mess. Sinking down meekly into the bathtub, unable to control the shaking of her body, she let the spray continue to berate her. Her sobs were muted by the sound of water hitting skin and porcelain, but they were alive with fire and the terror of a woman who had been almost brutally violated in the worst way. Like an animal kicked and quivering in the corner.

Her skin was raw and red by the time she got the strength back in her legs and made her way out of the shower. The water had actually turned cold she had been under the spray that long and now she was shivering with animated jerks.

Picking up the generic clothes, track pants and a sweater, both in gray, she steadied herself enough to pull the material up her legs and then over her head. Tying her hair back in a loose ponytail she took another look at herself in the mirror. In all regards, she looked clean, but felt anything close to that. She tongued her cracked lip and winced when she broke it open and bright red blood trailed out.

"Damn it!"

"Elizabeth?" Came the soft call at the door.

Her eyes flashed in alarm. Slowly she calmed herself, realizing the voice belonged to Sonny.

"Elizabeth, sweetie, are you alright?" Sonny asked through the wooden door that separated them.

"I'm fine." Her voice was weak and emotional even to her own ears. But she made herself believe it and hoped Sonny did, too.

"Why don't you come down and I'll make you some breakfast? Then I'll take you home, if you'd like." Sonny tried, holding his breath. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her after Jason had explained what she had gone through the night before.

Opening the door an inch at a time, Elizabeth poked her head out and gave Sonny a small smile. "You don't have to do that."

"I insist," he said.

His eyes held such concern.

Elizabeth had to look away. "Okay," she said and closed the door.

Sonny walked down the hall with a knot in the pit of his stomach and went to prepare breakfast.

Elizabeth moved back to the bed and sat on the edge. For a long time she just sat there with a blank look on her face not sure what her next move should be. She could smell the bacon Sonny was frying downstairs and it made her stomach turn. She didn't know how she was going to eat anything let alone sit there and pretend everything was alright.

This certainly was one Christmas morning she wasn't going to forget. Another one for the books.

She took her purse and damaged clothes and cuddled them against her while she made her way down the landing. She peeked into the kitchen at the doorway.

Sonny turned when he heard her and sat a plate on the table for her.

Creeping into the room, she took a seat, wincing. Her skin felt pulled tight and dried out and bruised.

She played with the eggs and toast but the entire time was trying to control her urge to throw up. Sonny was just finishing pouring some juice into a glass when Elizabeth spoke. "Sonny, I'm sorry. Could you just take me home?"

Her eyes were red and he could tell she was on the verge of tears.

Throwing off his apron, he grabbed the keys to his car and escorted her out the door without another word.

They drove in silence. Sonny thought about turning on the radio but was afraid how Liz would react. She was so still and quiet. He was beyond worried. When they pulled up in front of her studio, he insisted he walk her all the way up and she never even protested, which was so unlike her. Sonny tried to keep the anger down but he knew if he ever came across the scumbag that hurt Elizabeth he would have to kill the son-of-a-bitch. He'd killed before, he could do it again.

Elizabeth's hands shook when she tried to put the key in the lock and finally just handed them over to Sonny.

He got the door open easily and walked her into her apartment. "Will you be all right here by yourself? I could stay."

Elizabeth, who was still by the door, looked at him as if she was only now seeing him. "No. I'm fine. I'll be okay," she lied.

She didn't want to break down in front of Sonny. She didn't want him to feel guilty or blame himself because she was sure he'd done enough of that in his life.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to call." His words were soft, his eyes were emotional and Liz appreciated his concern more than she could say.

"Thank you." She followed him to the door and locked it when he left.

She heard Sonny's car pull away.

Elizabeth lay down on her couch and pulled an afghan around her body. She fell asleep so fast she didn't have time to worry about anything, but when she woke up in the early afternoon, with her hair matted and her side stinging, it was all she could do not to think about Paul and his dirty hands.

Her stomach rumbled and even though she had tried to eat at breakfast she hadn't been able to keep anything down. Searching her apartment she found soup and began to methodically warm it up. The first time she tasted it, she nearly spit it back out. Every time she tried to eat it, the spoon never quite made it to her mouth.

Eventually she gave up trying and crawled back into a tight bundle on the sofa.

The next time she woke up it was around three in the morning and she had developed such a headache she couldn't even turn on the light it hurt too much. She stumbled in the dark looking for aspirin or anything that could stop the pounding in her skull. Her foot connected with a blank canvas, tearing it and making her lurch forward. She fell against her easel and tipped it over, along with a small table that hosted several jars of paint. It splashed and splattered all over the floor and onto the track suit she had put on that morning. At first she thought the red splotches were blood and she began to panic. She felt like she couldn't breathe and that the walls were closing in on her. Her breath became shallow and her ears began to ring. She slowly pulled herself from the floor and wiped the tears that were forming in her eyes.

She could do this. She wasn't weak. She'd been through worse. Nothing had happened and she was safe now. As many times as she tried to reassure herself, the fear kept duplicating until she didn't think she could take it anymore.

She stripped off the sweat pants still in the dark and threw them to the ground. The sweater was in better condition so she decided to leave it on. Wrapping a blanket around herself Elizabeth curled up on the couch and rocked herself to sleep.

She still didn't feel safe and although she hadn't been one to give into her fear, she seemed to now. There was one place she knew she could go and feel safe. One place, with one man whom she knew she could trust.

* * *

Crouched down, Jason fiddled with the engine on his bike. His hand was still slightly sore from the beating he had given Paul Callahan the other night, but it didn't seem to really bother him while he fastened a bolt tight. 

He needed something to do to get his mind off of Elizabeth. He'd gone ahead to the police station to give his statement. Paul was being held on bail. There was no guarantee the charges would stick. Jason had wanted nothing more than to rush his cell and pound him some more.

He'd wanted to go see Elizabeth, but he didn't want to pressure her. She needed time. And he needed to respect that.

He knew, when she was ready, she'd come to him.

Stepping into the cool garage, Elizabeth watched Jason work for a minute before she let herself be known. She cleared her throat.

He looked up and seemed startled to see her.

She watched him stand to his full, intimidating height. When their eyes met recognition filtered through her. The cut above his eyebrow and bruise smeared over his jaw were all she needed to see to know that he had been her savior.

"Jason..." She hesitated.

He stepped towards her slowly. Seeing the fear in her eyes, he thought it was directed at him.

"I--You... It was you. You saved me," she said quietly.

A red hue coated his cheeks. He studied his hands, unsure what to say.

Elizabeth walked closer so that she stood directly in front of him. Her hand came to his face, smoothing her fingers over the ugly blue-yellow bruise on his jaw. The tears came to her eyes and slipped down her cheeks before she realized they were there. "I remember now, you…you said my name. Jason."

Finally meeting her eyes, he gave her a small smile, and thumbed away her tears.

"Don't cry," he whispered so softly his voice cracked.

She stared up at him and did the last thing he expected. Slowly, ever so slowly, she pulled him into a hug, pressing her bruised flesh against him.

He took a deep breath and brought his arms tentatively around her, and then with more gumption, when she buried her face in his chest. She was mumbling something but he couldn't quite make it out. So, with his hands braced on her shoulders, he pulled her back a little.

"I was so scared," she murmured.

His hand traveled to her neck and eased the tension out slowly with soft strokes. "I know," he said calmingly, smoothing his fingers through her hair.

She heard his breathing, a little fast and forced, like he couldn't quite get the air to his lungs.

"If you hadn't shown up... He would have... He was going to..." She couldn't even finish, and really, she didn't need to.

He pulled her close again and held her firmly. She relaxed into his strong arms and breathed in the now familiar smell of leather.

"Thank you. Jason... You didn't tell anyone, did you?" The fear and horror were etched in the lines of her face.

"Sonny knows. He called a doctor…and the police."

"The police?" Elizabeth closed her eyes, covering her face with her hand. She wiped the tears from her eyes and faced him.

"I had to tell them, Elizabeth," he said softly, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"How am I going to face anyone again? I'm so ashamed."

"There's nothing to be ashamed of," he said, trying to lighten the sound of his voice. He pulled her closer, trying to look deep into her eyes. He tilted her chin when she wouldn't look at him. "Look at me, Elizabeth."

When she did, her eyes were large and bright blue.

"This isn't your fault. You did nothing wrong."

Her eyes clouded over with fresh tears. "Jason, just… I can't. Please."

Her words were quiet and it broke his heart to see her this way, but he wrapped his arms around her once again and pulled her against his strong body, knowing that was what she needed.

She sank into him--would have slouched to the ground had he not kept her up.

It was a long time before Elizabeth pulled away, stumbling. She treaded backward and grabbed Jason's outstretched hand to steady her. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm doing."

His voice was calm and gentle. "It's okay. It...It will be, I mean."


	14. Chapter 14

Title: Remembering Tibet  
Author: Kat/Yuppiekat  
Rating: R  
Disclaimer: I don't own...well, anything pertaining to GH.  
Summary: This is an Alternate Universe fic. (And, possibly, a strange one at that.)-- The past haunts Jason and Elizabeth. In order to heal, they'll need each other.  
Notes: There are a few things that you should know about this fic... This fic was started (I believe) in 2002, but time constraints and frustration about the show stalled the writing of this fic. I am in the middle of re-reading and revising all the chapters. I'm not sure how often I can post. I wish I had more time to work on this, but you'll have to settle for a sporadic posting schedule. The character of Lucky is, well, very out of character. I'm aware of that. There is also a lot of head hopping in this fic... Um, sorry about that.

* * *

Dense fog shrouded the Quartermaine house. The rose garden, long ago overrun by weeds, stood wilted, covered in ice like frozen sculptures. Edward had ordered the gardeners not to touch the garden ever again. Looking at it, even in its unkempt state, made him think of his beloved Lila—her smile, her laughter...her eyes. Sometimes, when the world was at its bleakest, he had thoughts of destroying it, pulling out each rose bush one at a time from the roots. Of course, his arthritis and the little remnants of his heart prevented him from such actions. Lila would forever be in that garden. 

There was little left of his wife. He could scarcely remember her voice, her civility, her mild temperament and how she kept him in line – kept him from crossing barriers he knew shouldn't be crossed. But those lines blurred the moment her body grew cold. His heart had turned to ice, a brittle sharp thing, when he watched her body being lowered into the ground. And then everything evil, everything she had kept at bay, seemed to spill open. His business, the one he had worked so hard to build up, had slid into decline while he sat by his wife's bedside, watching her slip away. It had been a long, painful illness. And their time together was important—more important than mergers and stocks and the bottom line. That is until she died and all he had left _was_ the business. He'd ignored her for so long, so many wasted years, trying to make himself a success. He had failed her. He would not fail the business. He would be back on top again. At any cost.

"You blithering idiot!" Edward yelled. He pulled the young man into his office by the scruff of his jacket. Forcefully, he pushed him into one of the large leather chairs and stood over him, wagging his finger in his face. "You just couldn't keep your hands to yourself, could you?"

Paul whipped around and sneered. "It's your fault, old man! You're the one that came to me...sought _me_ out to help _you_! I was doing you a favor and look where it got me!"

Edward's eyes narrowed. He should have known better than to hire some sexed-up college kid. They never understood the bigger picture. "My fault? My fault! I told you to keep an eye on her, to get close to her. When did I say to rape her?! You did this all on your own," he said, jabbing his finger into his chest.

Paul rolled his neck. The beating Jason had given him had stiffened up all his muscles and he felt like shit. The cold six-by-six cell, barely-there mattress and thin sheets didn't help much either. Oh, not to mention his "roommate" who had tried to make him his bitch. Good thing he knew people in high places. Even if Edward was an old geezer, at least he was a rich old geezer. One more night in that jail and he could kiss his reputation goodbye.

Good thing it was all over… Well, except for his sentencing. Not that he expected to go back to jail. His father would hire some overpriced lawyer and the charges would get dropped. Just like last time.

Working for the Quartermaine's, while prosperous, wasn't exactly his idea of turning over a quick buck.

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself now that you've screwed everything up?"

"Yeah, well, whatever. It's over now," he said, casually, avoiding Edward's menacing stare.

Edward's voice was deadly low. "Nothing's over! Not until I get my money!"

Paul shook his head. The nerve of this guy… If he thought Elizabeth Webber was going to roll with their plan now, the guy was seriously twisted. "What? But I was arrested! She'll never talk to me now."

Edward laughed, it sounded hollow and cold. His blue eyes sparkled.

Paul cringed. What the hell had he gotten himself mixed up in? Fuck, his father was going to kill him this time!

"I bailed you out, young man. That means you still owe me. Forget about the girl. There are other things you can do for me to work off your debt."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"In due time, my boy," Edward said, smirking.

* * *

Sonny had called off the search when Jason arrived back at the house with Elizabeth in his arms, bruised and bloodied. He didn't exactly_ lie_ to Trisha, but he didn't tell her the _whole_ truth either. He said things were fine… And although they weren't _exactly_ fine, it was better than getting her all riled up. At least that had been the _logical_ explanation, and if Sonny had known Trisha better, he would have known that had definitely been the wrong thing. Because what Sonny didn't know was that Trisha had a pretty good bullshit detector. And, apparently, Sonny stunk.

"Where is she?!" Trisha demanded, storming through the open door, her face red with anger.

Sonny backed up and held his hands out in front of him. "Whoa, calm down!"

Trisha was fiercely loyal and deadly when crossed. She threw her hands in the air, her lips thinning. "Don't tell me to calm down!"

Sonny was smart enough to remain quiet.

"I started thinking about it and your little "she decided to take a walk and got lost" story didn't make a lick of sense. So I went to Elizabeth's studio this morning. And do you know what I found? The place was a mess! Paint spilled on the floor, clothes thrown all over, pants covered in, what looks like, _blood_! Now, you tell me what the _hell_ is going on! And you tell me _now_!"

"I'm fine, Trisha," Elizabeth said, hugging her arms around her body, walking cautiously down the steps to greet her friend.

"Oh, thank god!" Trisha exclaimed and pulled her into a death-grip of a hug. "Look at you! What the hell happened?! We were so worried! What were you thinking?! Why didn't you call me? Spence wanted to fill out a missing person's report when we saw the mess at your apartment. Do you have _any_ idea how insane I've been going? I was thinking all these horrible thoughts…making myself sick! Sick, Elizabeth Imogene Webber! Do you hear me?" Trisha exclaimed, exhausted. She looked at Liz pointedly, waiting for an explanation.

"Well, something did happen—Wait, why were you and Lucky together?" Elizabeth asked, deflecting attention from herself.

Trisha flushed. This time from what Elizabeth's _knew_ to be embarrassment.

"We...uh... That's beside the point! What's going on? Are you okay?"

Elizabeth nodded. From the corner of her eye she saw Jason walk in from the garage and quietly shut the door behind him. She took in a deep breath.

"Something happened...but everything's okay now," she said, biting her lip and recoiling when the tender skin rebelled.

"What? What happened?"

"I don't really want to get into it again..."

Trisha smoothed her hand down Elizabeth's back. Her eyes narrowed in concern. "What is it? Whatever it is, you know I'm here for you," Trisha encouraged.

"I know and I'm okay," Elizabeth said quietly. "Paul was waiting for me last night... He tried to... He almost...but Jason was there..."

Elizabeth didn't continue.

Trisha was a perceptive person and could piece together the rest on her own. She pulled Elizabeth into another tight hug. "I'm _so_ sorry, sweetie. I should've been there. I could have--"

"Stop. You couldn't have done anything. I was… It was my fault. I was stupid."

"Don't. Don't you do that to yourself! Don't let me _ever_ hear you blame yourself for this again. Do you hear me?"

Elizabeth nodded against her friend's shoulder. The tears came unbidden. "I-I just needed some air… I needed to get away. I-I can…I can still feel his hands on me, touching, grabbing." She shuddered. The bruises would fade, but the fear was still very much a part of her. It could be seen hiding in the steely blue of her eyes.

"Shh, it's okay. We're all here for you. Right?" Trisha's statement was definitive.

Sonny and Jason nodded solemnly, eyes on the ground. Jason shifted his weight, his hand curling into a fist.

The tension was thick and cloying. Someone needed to break it.

Sonny cleared his throat.

There. Effective and clean.

"I'm just going to the orphanage to pick-up Dominic. I got a call from Sister Mary-Thomas this morning and she said she'd talked things over with him and she'd never seen him so excited. So today is going to be like…a trial run. I'm not sure she really trusts me with him, but at least she's willing to give me a chance. Do you need anything while I'm gone, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth pulled back from Trisha and wiped her eyes. "No, no I'm okay, Sonny. Thank you, though."

"Okay. Trisha, stay as long as you like."

Trisha crossed her arms and tapped her foot. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Uh…"

"An apology perhaps? For not only_ lying_ about how Liz really was, but for making up a really shitty story, too. Seriously? You're a terrible liar."

Sonny bowed his head. "I was doing what I thought Elizabeth would want, but I am sorry for misleading you."

"Apology accepted." Trisha sensed Sonny's sincerity, his loyalty toward Elizabeth. It was all the explanation she needed.

Sonny nodded. "There's cake on the counter and lots of leftovers in the refrigerator if you get hungry."

"I could eat," Trisha said, and took Elizabeth's hand, leading her into the kitchen.

Sonny faced Jason and put his hand on his shoulder. "She'll be okay," he said, softly.

Jason nodded, smoothing his hand down his face.

* * *

The collar around his neck itched. He still couldn't get used the idea of playing a priest. Max flexed his fingers on the steering wheel, turning the corner and checking his rearview. Even though Sonny was out of the business, he still had enemies. There were people still out there that wouldn't think twice about taking a shot at his former boss.

And now with a kid in the equation…? He still wasn't comfortable lying to Elizabeth. Deep down, he knew it was for her protection and that's what allowed him to maintain the lie. But a kid? There was a reason Sonny left the business—a reason why he never got remarried and never had more kids of his own. They would never be safe. And Max couldn't see how entering the life of some orphaned kid wasn't going to become a complication.

The subject had to be broached very delicately. He cleared his throat. "So, uh, boss, about this kid…?"

Sonny turned his head. "I'm not your boss."

"Whaa? Yeah, sorry. Anyway, about the kid."

"What, Max? Just say it."

Max hooked his finger into his collar, pulling the scratchy material away from his neck. "I'm just wondering…"

"Wondering what?" he snapped.

Max treaded carefully. "Well… It just seems like this whole thing was sort of…spontaneous."

"What are you trying to say?"

Max kept his eyes on the road. He could feel the heat of Sonny's stare. "I just think… I mean, especially after what has happened to Elizabeth, that it might be better if… A kid is a lot of, um, work. And maybe it's a little reckless to--"

"You think I should stay away." Sonny sighed, turning his head to look out the window.

"I think you should tread carefully. You don't know this kid's story, his history. The kid could--"

"Dominic."

"What?"

"His name is Dominic."

"Oh."

"I know you're concerned. I know this seems… I can't explain it. There's something about him. He just looks so much…"

"Dominic, _your_ Dominic is… he's dead, Sonny." Max hated saying it. He knew Sonny was painfully aware of the fact. Back then Max had been green, new to the business, but he'd witnessed Sonny's breakdown. He'd seen just what losing his wife and son had done to him.

Sonny closed his eyes. "I know."

"I'm sorry, boss."

"I'm not your boss," Sonny said, eyes turning back to the window.

"Right. I'm…I'm sorry."

* * *

They pulled up to the house and Max cut the ignition.

Sonny figured letting Francis or Johnny drive him would have been a mistake. Max, collar and all, was a far better option. And though he felt guilty for the deception, in the end it was worth it if he got to spend time with Dominic and possibly figure out exactly what drew him to the young boy. He just hadn't counted on Max's concern. In truth, he'd been feeling conflicted about his reasons for visiting the boy and now he knew he wasn't the only one.

Dominic was ready, pacing at the front door. Sonny attempted to get out of the car to greet him, but he rushed over with a huge smile on his face, waving frantically to Sister Mary-Thomas, while he quite literally hopped into the car.

Sonny couldn't help the low chuckle that escaped. Looking over at Sister Mary-Thomas, he could tell that she was less than amused. The stark worry lines on her face told Sonny that she was more than a little apprehensive about letting Dominic leave.

Sonny couldn't blame her. Everyone knew his reputation.

Climbing into the back seat, Sonny couldn't take his eyes off of Dominic.

"Wow, this is a cool car!" Dominic exclaimed, touching all the buttons his chubby kid-fingers could find.

"Yeah, yeah it is," he said, trying not to stare.

They had taken the limo. Maybe that had been a mistake, too. Even letting Max drive a limo seemed conspicuous for a retired mob boss. They should have taken one of the cars instead. There were certain rituals, no matter how hard Sonny had tried to break them, that just came natural. Old habits died hard.

Sonny's gaze again fell on Dominic. There was something so familiar about this boy, something that reminded him of his own son. It was crazy, really. His son was dead and he shouldn't be fantasizing that Dominic was anything other than an unfortunate boy that looked remarkably like him. He knew getting his hopes up would just lead to disappointment and heartache.

Dominic settled back in his seat, eyeing Sonny skeptically. "Are you in the mob?"

Sonny laughed. "What?"

"You know, the Mob, with the bad guys and the drugs and the big machine guns. Jimmy Parker said that you were in the mob and that you had all this money and that you killed all theses people to get it. That true?"

Sonny sighed. How the hell did he explain his past lifestyle to an impressionable kid without lying or glamorizing it? He was silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, tentative. "I did a lot of things in my past that I'm not proud of...but no, I'm not in the mob."

"But you were, right?"

Sonny nodded slowly. "Yes."

Dominic's eyes were wide. "Whoa, most people would have lied. That's awesome! You must be really rich."

Sonny straightened in his seat, his back tense. "It's not awesome, Dominic," he said, shaking his head. "I lost my wife and child because I was selfish and greedy. Nothing about that lifestyle is awesome."

"I guess not," he said, shrugging. "Back in the Bronx, this kid that lived down the block had an Uncle who got mixed up with the mob and he ended up in the river wearing cement shoes, if you know what I mean." Dominic slid his index finger over his throat and winked at Sonny.

Sonny didn't know whether to laugh or scold him. He decided changing the subject was his best bet. "So, you grew up with just your mom?"

Dominic looked down at the floor of the car, seemingly shy. "Yeah, well, mostly. There were... Sometimes she had a boyfriend. We moved around a lot until Mom died... Then I got shipped off to the orphanage."

Sonny nodded. "You must miss her a lot."

"Yeah. I guess it's the same with you. You must miss your wife and your kid, huh?"

"It's been a long time, but yeah. Yeah, I miss them."

Dominic smiled slightly and looked out the window.

Sonny watched him from the corner of his eye until they rounded the corner and entered the long driveway leading to the house.

* * *

"Elizabeth, are you really okay?" Trisha asked, seated across form her at the kitchen table.

Elizabeth looked up from her plate and gave a false smile. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Stop worrying about me, okay?"

Trisha scooted closer. "Don't you know I can tell when you're lying? And don't ask me to do something I don't want to. You know I'll only do it more."

"I'm sorry, I just... I don't really want to talk about it." Elizabeth picked up her mug, containing herbal tea, and took a sip.

Trisha smoothed her hair behind her ear and bit her lip. "Does it remind you--"

"Don't go there. Please." Elizabeth's mug slipped from her hands, crashing onto the saucer and spilling hot tea all over the table. "Smooth, Elizabeth. _Real_ smooth," she chastised herself.

Getting up from the table, she grabbed a dishtowel from the counter. Picking up the chipped mug, she set it and the saucer in the sick, leaning on the stainless steel for balance and taking a deep breath. After a brief moment—long enough to collect herself—Elizabeth returned to the table and began to soak up her mess. She could feel Trisha's eyes on her.

"Here," Trisha said, quietly, reaching for the towel, "Let me get it."

"I can do it."

"Your hands are shaking."

Elizabeth looked down at her hands and noticed how her whole body seemed to be trembling. She looked Trisha in the eye and let go of the now-wet dishtowel.

"I didn't mean..." Trisha began, but gave up, seemingly not finding the right words. "Everything's going to be okay."

"I know," Elizabeth said, allowing herself to believe it—needing to believe it. She waited a beat, then, "Jason saved me."

Trisha cleared the mess and then took her seat again. She took a bite of Sonny's specialty chocolate cake and chewed slowly. She swallowed and let her fork rest against her plate. "When you say he _saved_ you…what exactly do you mean?"

"I was just there…just waiting for the inevitable, closing my eyes and going to some other place in my head…just waiting for it all to be over… Just…numb. And then Jason was just _there_. And I_ knew_. I knew I was safe."

"H-How did he even find you?"

"I don't know. He just did."

"Then he's a hero."

"I'm not a hero," Jason said solemnly, walking into the room, wiping his hands on a rag.

Both women had been talking so in depth, they hadn't heard Jason come inside. His voice was like a loud drum, breaking into their quiet confessional.

Jason felt Trisha's eyes on him. "What?" he asked self-consciously.

Her eyes were wide, her mouth open in shock and then after she gained some composure she said, "Uh, hello? You're speaking!"

Jason nodded, moving to the sink and turning the faucet on. He rubbed soap over his hands and continued to clean off the motor grease.

Trisha gave Elizabeth a quizzical look.

Elizabeth shrugged and they both looked at Jason and then back at each other.

Trisha smiled.

Elizabeth's face heated.

She and Jason hadn't really spoken about the whole "speaking" thing. Truth be told, Jason hadn't been doing much of it at all. She was getting used to his one word answers. In fact, she wondered how long it would take those one word answers to become silent nods once again.

Jason dried off his hands, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and then proceeded to the front door, closing it softly behind him.

"Um, okay. The, uh, the talking thing…? When _exactly_ did that happen?" Trisha said, looking to Elizabeth for explanation.

Elizabeth shrugged, her eyes fixated on the closed door.

"I'll be right back," she told Trisha, feeling her eyes on her.

"Hey, Elizabeth?"

"Yeah?"

"Take your time. I'm sure you two have… I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

"Okay."

She exited the house through the front door.

* * *

Elizabeth stepped out the door just when the limo was approaching. The door opened and Sonny stepped out, followed by a young boy who looked hauntingly familiar...

Sonny, noticing Elizabeth, smiled and put his hand on Dominic's shoulder, urging him forward. "Elizabeth, this is Dominic. Dominic, this is my good friend Elizabeth."

Sonny smiled reassuringly and Elizabeth took the cue, returning it.

"I'll let the two of you get acquainted. I've got to talk to Jason. Excuse me, please."

"Sure," Elizabeth said.

Sonny walked off, heading to the garage, leaving them alone.

Elizabeth had always been good with kids. For whatever reason, they seemed to like her. Maybe it was because she was so small and not intimidating. Or maybe it was because she didn't talk down to them. Whatever the reason, she'd always had plenty of work babysitting as a result.

Elizabeth bent down, only slightly, to put her at eye level with the young boy. She smiled encouragingly. "Hi! It's Dominic, right?"

The boy looked at her through near-black eyes—eyes that were wide with an emotion Elizabeth couldn't pin down—a beautiful onyx color she'd love to paint.

After a moment the boy shook his head and responded. "Uh, yeah. Hi," he said, touching the side of his face as if he could feel Elizabeth's bruised skin as his own. "W-what happened to your face?"

Elizabeth touched her cheek, remembering her injuries. A breeze kicked up and she shivered involuntarily. She crossed her arms over her chest to protect herself and struggled to find the words to explain. "I... Well, um…"

Dominic continued to look at Elizabeth with an intensity that didn't quite sit right. He touched his own lip making Elizabeth aware that, out of habit, she'd bitten her lip and caused it to bleed again. She didn't even feel the pain.

"Did Sonny do that?"

"Sonny?" Elizabeth asked, confused.

And then something clicked. This was a boy that knew too much. Had, possibly, seen more than a child ever should. This was a kid she could relate to. The one pervading thought was that she had to make him feel safe. She had to explain that this place and the people that inhabited it were not to be feared. That nothing and no one was going to hurt him here. "Oh, no, honey! Sonny would never hurt anyone, especially not a woman."

Dominic looked at the ground, his shoulders slumping.

Elizabeth, sensing that the boy needed to be comforted, placed her hand on his shoulder. Crouching down so they were completely at eye level, she put all her focus on him. But he kept his eyes to the ground. "Hey, you okay, sweetie?"

He nodded, but Elizabeth wasn't convinced.

"Is something wrong?" she coaxed, gently.

"No," he said.

Slowly, his eyes met hers.

Elizabeth offered a slight smile, trying to encourage him. She knew exactly where the conversation was headed; she'd lived it herself.

"It's okay to tell me. I won't tell anyone."

Dominic seemed to weigh this, his hand reached out, and, hesitantly, he touched the side of Elizabeth's face. His fingers were small and cold from the weather and the lack of mittens.

"Sometimes my mom had bruises like this," he said, his voice low, gravelly.

Elizabeth nodded, taking his hand and rubbing it between her own to help warm it up.

He was undersized, underweight and scrappy. Sonny told her that he was a smart-aleck and, from what the Sisters had said, he was a bit of a troublemaker. He told lies and pulled pranks and didn't get along with some of the other children. And yet, there was depth and wisdom in his eyes that was heartbreakingly pure. A softness he tried very hard to hide.

No one was perfect. Hell, Elizabeth had been prone to the same mistakes in her youth… And it wasn't out of malice or callousness but because no one paid attention to her otherwise. Looking at Dominic, she wondered how long it had been since someone had praised him. Or how long it had been since someone had simply asked him how his day had been. Or read him a bedtime story. Or, simply, noticed him at all.

Her chest felt constricted. He was just a little boy. A little boy, that was too precious and too young, to deserve to be forgotten already.

She reached for his other hand and felt that it was just as cold. She'd have to do something about that. For now, she kissed the back of it and let it drop to his side. "No one's going to hurt you here. I promise."

In that instant, a bond formed. It had developed out of nowhere, but it didn't feel foreign or strange when Elizabeth wrapped him in her arms and hugged him tightly. She ran her fingers through his hair, her fingers tangling in the curls at the back. Dominic responded, hugging her back and surprising Elizabeth with the intensity. Tears pricked her eyes. It was like he hadn't had any kind of affection in years.

She wanted to cry, but she held in her tears for fear he would see and wouldn't understand. She didn't want to frighten him. This was a special kid. Elizabeth already felt protective.

God, she hoped Sonny knew what he was doing.

* * *

Sonny stepped into the garage, rubbing his hands together to keep warm.

Jason was crouched over his motorcycle.

"The bike not running right again?"

Jason looked up. "No."

"You think someone's been tampering with it, don't you? I can get Johnny or Francis to watch the house if you think it could get worse."

Jason shook his head, his eyes darting over Sonny's shoulder to the house. "I don't think we have to worry yet."

"Yet?"

"He's not desperate yet. When he gets desperate…" Jason said, finally taking his eyes off the house and meeting Sonny's stare, "that's when we worry."

* * *

Elizabeth led Dominic inside.

Trisha looked up when the pair entered the room. "Hey, who's the kid?" she said, through a mouthful of cake.

"Trisha, play nice."

"Can't a girl ask a question?"

"This is Dominic," Elizabeth said, pulling out a chair for him.

"Nice to meet ya, Squirt."

Dominic looked at Elizabeth for reassurance. "She's harmless, really," she said, giving Trisha the eye. Unconsciously, her line of sight went to the door. She wondered what it was Jason and Sonny were talking about.

Trisha eyed Dominic suspiciously. "Does he talk? Because I _so_ cannot handle another non-talker."

"I can talk," he piped up.

"Ah, so you can," she said, smiling. "So, kid, how do you feel about chocolate cake?"

"I like it."

"Good, I think you'll fit in just fine here."

Elizabeth's eyes fell back to the door. "I'll just let the two of you get acquainted. You don't mind do you?"

"Nah, me and the miniature can entertain ourselves. I wasn't voted favorite camp counselor 4 years in a row for nothing. I have mad skills when it comes to dealing with the age-challenged. You go ahead. Do what you have to do."

"Okay, thank you. Oh, and Trisha? Be on your best behavior, okay?"

"Aren't I always?" she said, busying herself by pouring a glass of milk and getting a slice of cake for Dominic.

* * *

Elizabeth nearly ran smack into Sonny when she opened the door.

"Sorry, Elizabeth. Are you okay?"

"Fine," she said, trying to calm the fast beating of her heart. "Uh… I, um, I brought Dominic inside. It was so cold and his hands were like ice. He's in there with Trisha."

"I better hurry then. Lord knows what that kid will get into while unsupervised…"

"I'm assuming you mean Trisha."

"Of course," Sonny said, smiling. "Anyway, thanks for looking after Dominic."

"It was no problem. He seems like a cool kid."

"He does, doesn't he?"

Elizabeth nodded and watched Sonny head into the house.

She kept it in mind to talk to Sonny later about her conversation with Dominic, but for now she had other business to deal with.

* * *

Elizabeth watched Jason curiously from the corner of her eye. She'd come to think of the garage as his space. The one place he could go to in order to find some solitude. And wasn't she was always invading his privacy? Is that how he saw it? Did he go there to get away from her? And she just kept following him around like a lost little puppy? God, she hoped not.

She debated whether to speak or to let them remain in the silence that always seemed to surround them. He was either too busy fiddling with the motorcycle to notice her or was ignoring her on purpose.

Nervously, she grabbed at the zipper on her sweater.

Everything that had happened _that night_ had come back to her slowly. The things she had tried to filter out reemerged and she was having a hard time processing it all.

Jason had rescued her. He'd been there when she needed him the most. How did a person thank someone for that? Was it even possible?

She wanted to. Wanted to tell him how grateful she was. She had tried. But a simple thank you didn't seem enough. But the thing that she wanted most…the thing that wouldn't let her rest, was that she wanted to touch him. Just to make sure that this was all real. That someone, someone that had never uttered a single word to her, had not only saved her life, but had broken a vow that was important and spiritual. A vow that he'd kept for more than two years. Just to say _her _name.

And she had never heard anything more beautiful.

That's what kept her going through all this. That, in the middle of something tragic, a vile and incomprehensible act, it was Jason's voice that broke through and kept her from going to the very dark place in her mind that kept taunting her. It was his voice, and one word, that made it okay.

She wanted to somehow put all those feelings into words. But, the _right_ words, the words that would make the most sense, and grasp exactly what she meant, didn't seem to exist. There were no words for how she felt about him and what he'd done.

So, there were all these feelings and these urges, but she remained motionless. Somehow the part of her brain that controlled her feet had stopped functioning. And she wondered, idly, why her motor skills were out-of-whack whenever he was within five feet.

Elizabeth cleared her throat. "Uh, hi," she squeaked out.

At least her voice was working. Kind of.

Jason looked up. "Hi."

Chills ran down her spine and curled her toes. She closed her eyes, relishing in the timeless sound of his voice. Who knew that the word "hi" could be so alluring?

Why was this so hard? She'd talked to Jason a bunch of times and never had she felt this kind of pressure. Of course, now that he talked back, it made things a little harder. She'd thought, before, that if Jason could only respond to her with words, they wouldn't have so many misunderstandings. But reality was proving to be the opposite. Their communication skills seemed to have been compromised.

And maybe it was because she felt herself holding back. Felt herself clamming up whenever they were in the same room.

Because now he could tell her to shut up if he wanted to. Or to just leave him alone, if that's what he wanted. He could tell her everything he'd been feeling but unable to express before. And she was so scared, so very scared, that what he had to say wasn't what she desperately wanted to hear…

She wanted it all to mean just as much to him as it did to her. Those unrelenting looks between them had spoke volumes, but now his eyes didn't say a damn thing. She wanted those back. She wanted it all back… The looks. The simple touches. The dance. She wanted it to matter.

"I, um, I wanted to thank you," she sputtered.

"You already--"

"Please," she said, keeping her eyes downcast.

Slowly she lifted her head until their eyes met and held.

Jason nodded, signaling for her to continue.

"What you did for me… No one has ever… I'm not very good at this," she said, dejected.

Jason watched her closely, seeing the way she shifted her weight from foot-to-foot and how her hands were shaking--just enough for it to be noticeable to his trained eyes.

Elizabeth brushed the hair out of her eyes and concentrated on a spot of oil on the cold garage floor. "I just… I want you to know that I will _never_ forget what you did."

"Okay," he said.

Elizabeth fought her desire to bite her lip. Now what?

Jason cleared his throat. "Can I ask you something?" he said, surprising her.

"Go ahead."

He scratched behind his ear and took a deep breath.

Whatever was coming wasn't going to be comfortable.

She braced herself.

Here it was. The rejection. The polite request for her eternal absence.

"When you were being atta--" he stopped, shaking his head. He paused, searching for the right word. "When I _found_ you…," he clarified, raising his eyebrows. "You said, "not again." And you were scared, Elizabeth. Terrified. You had every right to be, but it was something _more_. Has… Did something…like _this_, happen to you before?"

The tears collected quickly, too quickly for her to stop their descent down her pale cheeks.

She nodded.

Jason closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. She watched his jaw tick before he opened his eyes again and made eye contact.

She wasn't sure what she saw looking back at her.

"I was fifteen," she whispered. "I was so stupid, Jason."

"Elizabeth--"

"No, I want to… Tell you. You know, get it out there," she said, hoping she sounded stronger than she felt.

And then she looked at him.

She saw it in his eyes. Understanding. Compassion.

Suddenly, she had all the strength she needed to continue.

"Okay," he said, quietly.

"He was a lot older. And I liked him. I liked him a lot," she said, rolling her eyes and wiping her cheeks. "I was so young… Too young. But, of course, I thought I knew everything! I guess I didn't know enough…"

Elizabeth leaned against the work bench. She shook her head in remembrance.

The first time she'd laid eyes on him, she developed an instant crush. He was tall and handsome and his smile was always directed at her. He didn't seem to mind that they were ten years apart when they flirted… Didn't seem to care that she wasn't as grown up as she pretended to be…

"He worked for my father. He was an intern. So he was always at the house, running personal errands for my dad," she said, recalling his constant visits.

She used to put on her bathing suit and watch them work from the pool. And he always found time to come out and say hi. Sometimes the way he looked at her scared her, but she'd always push it down. Maybe if she hadn't…

"Wow, this is…This is hard," she whispered, running her sleeve over her face to mop up any tears.

Jason took a step forward, wanting to comfort her. When she looked up, briefly meeting his eye, he thought better of it and stepped back. "You don't have to. I shouldn't have…"

"No, I want to," she whispered, her voice cracking. "And I think… I think I need to."

She watched his reaction, but there wasn't one. His eyes were still fixed on her face, and they were unreadable. She wondered what he was thinking. How he was feeling. And if, what she was going to tell him, would change the way he looked at her. She didn't want that. It broke her heart to even think about the possibility. But she wanted to be honest. Had to be.

"He seemed nice. And he paid attention to me. I wasn't used to that. I-I didn't really ever have that before," she said, sparing another glance at him.

This time she could tell he was a little confused.

"See, my father's, like, this really important business man—well, I mean he's a doctor, too, but he doesn't really have a practice anymore. See he develops—you know what? It doesn't matter what he does. I mean, either way—doctor or business man—he's still really important, and he still never had the time... He wasn't a real "family man." Well, unless my brother was involved. He…he always had time for Steven. So, I was used to being in the background. I was jealous. I wanted someone in my life that put me first. And, Tom--that was his name, Tom. He made me feel…special, you know? I liked to hang around and flirt with him… But he took it too far. Or maybe I did," she said, reflectively.

"One day they were drinking and he came to my room… Then he...he just... I couldn't stop him, Jason. I tried, but he was so heavy. I tried, I did. I kept telling him_ no_, but he wouldn't stop. He wouldn't stop..."

Elizabeth took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. She dared not look at Jason for fear of how his eyes had changed. She didn't want to see pity there.

"No one wanted to touch me after the rape--at least that's what I made myself believe. I was starved for affection and I guess that's why I started staying out late and getting into trouble," she said, laughing, not humorously.

She didn't remember everything about those long nights spent at parties and clubs and bars, dressed in scraps of clothing, occasionally she went home with men she didn't really know, creating an illusion of false intimacy. And spending the next day curled up in a ball in her closet. She wanted to break the cycle, but giving in was so much easier.

"People started to take notice. I-I wasn't invisible anymore. I liked feeling important…feeling like I _mattered_. I was reckless. I took stupid risks. Because I thought…I thought that if I put myself out there, if I made it _my_ choice, then it would all be okay. I could stop whatever it was that _might_ happen. I didn't leave things to chance. After a while I just crashed. My dad sent me to live with my grandmother and I've been here ever since."

She remembered the bus ride to her grandmother's house. A man had sat down beside her and she'd pushed herself tight against the window seat, not wanting any part of him to touch her. She didn't want any man to touch her ever again. And when her grandmother had hugged her at the bus depot, commenting on her low-rise top and short skirt, she felt dirty and cheap.

The first days were the hardest. There were so many rules and so much expectation. She didn't think she'd ever live up to her grandmother's ideals.

Dance class started a week into her stay. It was horrible. Unbearable, sometimes. All these strange men, leading her around the dance floor, their sweaty palms soaking into her clothing and their breath hot on her skin.

And then there was etiquette class and cotillion; fundraisers and hospital parties; volunteering and a waitress job. God, she'd been the worst waitress Kelly's had ever seen when she first started! If she didn't get along with Bobbie so well, she would have been fired for sure. She was almost positive that the only reason she got the job in the first place was because she felt sorry for her.

Summer passed quickly and soon she started school. There was no one to talk to and most of the time she liked it that way. Life was less complicated without friends. Besides, she'd never really had many at home. She ate lunch alone. Studied alone. Existed alone.

Then she met Lucky. They got stuck being lab partners and he told her a stupid joke—a now-typical Lucky joke. He bungled up the punch-line and she called him an idiot. But he made it okay for her to laugh again. And so begun their friendship.

Elizabeth released a slow breath. She was physically exhausted and mentally drained. "Whew, that was heavy. I didn't think I was going to share all that."

"Are you okay?" Jason said.

She nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm…I'm fine."

Once again silence fell upon them. Elizabeth studied Jason's features. He was so strong and yet there was something so gentle in his eyes. "Jason?"

"Yeah?"

"You still don't talk much," she said quietly. "Is it because of me? Don't--don't you like me?"

She picked up her zipper again, on reflex, trapping it between her fingers before she pulled it up and finally let it go. She hadn't realized how afraid of his answer she was until the question popped out of her mouth.

Jason's head shot up and he fixed his gaze on hers. He stood, wiping his hands on a rag and taking a step forward. When he spoke, it was slow and sort of melodic like a sad jazz song. "It's been such a long time since I've spoken, that I guess… I just kind of got used to it and forget sometimes that it's okay. It doesn't have anything to do with you. I-I like you. I like you a lot, Elizabeth," he told her shyly.

The way he said her name made her feel so safe, and oddly enough, strong. No one could get to her. Not Dr. Sharpy. Not that psycho Paul Callahan. Not even her past could bother her. No, when she was here, with him, and he said her name so softly, the way he did the first time, she felt like an entirely different person.

She felt, for once, like herself.

"I like you too, Jason." She watched him blush and it touched her. He was unlike anyone she had ever met and she wondered if she would be able to forget him ever. Somewhere deep inside, she knew he had more than begun to matter to her... Somewhere, deep down where she didn't want to acknowledge it, she knew she was falling in love with him. "I hope you don't think I'm rude for asking…and you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but...why did you take on a vow of silence? I mean, I know when you started it, but why?"

Jason took in a deep breath, his chest rose, filling with air and it made him look indestructible, like no matter what, nothing would ever get to him. "Silence teaches self-discipline. When I'm not talking, I can listen. You'd be amazed at how things sound when you actually take the time to hear them. It wasn't just that though... In a way, I was punishing myself."

"Punishing yourself? For what?" Elizabeth was intrigued.

"For being selfish," he stated flatly. "When I lost my Uncle, I took a look at myself and didn't like what I saw." A pregnant pause and then, "I just want to be a good person, Elizabeth."

She scrunched her nose up and eyed him. "A good person? But you are, Jason. I can tell that you are."

He laughed softly. "You think so? I'm not as sure."

She smiled. "I just have a way with people. You try to be distant and uncaring but I can see in your eyes that you're not the type of person who would walk away from a friend. You respect Sonny and that says a lot about you."

"How so?"

"He's a good man, so that must mean you are, too. And you were there for me when I _really_ needed you. I think I know enough," she stated.

"No, you don't," he said and he sounded very far away. He turned to her, his eyes losing all humor. "I've never wanted to kill anyone, Elizabeth. But when I saw you laying there... What he did... What he _would_ have done… I wanted to _kill_ him. So don't say I'm a good person when I'm capable of thoughts like that."

"You don't think I wanted to hurt him just as badly?! Jason, you'll never be able to measure how much you did for me that night. You saved me!"

"But you're afraid of me... Even after...this." He looked right at her, didn't blink and didn't even think of turning away.

Elizabeth was silent--stunned that she was so transparent. "I'm not afraid of you," she denied.

"Every time I get near you, you flinch away. If that isn't fear, what is it?"

The tension was thick. Elizabeth remained silent. Her heart was beating very fast in her chest and she felt a little dizzy. "I wouldn't have…kissed you…if I was afraid," she pointed out.

"There were times when you pulled away when I got near you." He took a step forward for emphasis and she unconsciously backed away, catching herself at the last second.

"Okay, so maybe you scare me a bit, but not so much since... Maybe even before then."

Jason raked his hand through his hair. He tilted his head to the side, searching her face. "What is it about me that makes you afraid?"

"It's not just you. Ever since… All men sort of scare me."

"You're lying. What about Sonny? Max? Francis and Johnny?"

"That's different."

"How?"

"Because I don't… They're friends."

"And I'm not?"

Elizabeth met his stare, recognizing the burst of hurt screaming in his eyes.

"You're…complicated. How I feel about you… It's not always easy to trust myself. Look, Jason, it was hard getting to know you when you didn't speak, and, yeah, sometimes I don't understand you," she admitted. "Sometimes…you make me nervous. It's human nature to fear the things we don't understand, isn't it?"

"I'd never hurt you, Elizabeth. I hope you know that," he said, sincerely.

"I do."

"But you're still afraid?"

His eyes met hers and it nearly took her breath away to see the icy blue thawed and replaced with a magnificent azure. "No, not really," she replied breathily

"You seem unsure."

She sighed. "I guess I'm still trying to figure you out."

"Elizabeth?"

"Yeah?"

"I think you scare me a little, too," Jason told her softly and then walked across the room retrieving a tool, leaving Elizabeth in stunned silence.

Jason easily switched his focus back to the bike.

She wondered if that was a tactic to end their conversation.

"If I had been a little later..." he mumbled, so low she had to strain to hear him, "I never want to see you hurt again."

"Jason," she said, waiting for him to look at her. "I don't want to be alone tonight. Can I stay here?" she asked shyly.

Jason's eyes widened and his voice got caught in his throat.

"I wouldn't ask...except that every time I go home to my empty studio and close my eyes all I can see is_ his_ face."

Jason's eyes softened, giving away his innate weakness for her. "He won't hurt you anymore, Elizabeth," he said softly, loving the way her name rolled off his tongue. "Stay…as long as you need."

* * *

Trisha agreed to help Liz pack up a few things to bring back to Sonny and Jason's. For once she didn't razz her about her relationship with Jason.

They took a cab to her studio. Sonny had offered them a ride, but Elizabeth didn't want to disrupt the limited time he had with Dominic. There was something magnetic about their interaction.

They got out of the cab and Elizabeth turned to the driver and said, "I just have to pick up a few things."

The driver grunted a reply and continued to stare out the window.

"Who pissed in his cornflakes?" Trisha snickered while they took the stairs leading to the apartment.

Elizabeth forced a laugh. Digging around in her purse, she produced a key and opened the door. The first thing she felt when she walked through the door was shock.

Lucky was down on his hands and knees scrubbing the floor. Giant suds foamed around him and the rest of the floor was shiny from where it'd been cleaned.

"You cleaned?" she said, flabbergasted.

"Yeah...well," Lucky answered shyly.

Lucky wasn't always good with words, especially when it came to emotional situations.

"I had Spence clean it. He'll do anything for me. It's great. Right?" Trisha bragged.

"Whatever you say," Lucky answered, wiping up the suds.

Elizabeth took the few steps to where Lucky was. He stood slowly, stretching his back and smiling.

"Lucky, it looks great! Thank you."

She gently hugged him and he returned it fully, holding her a little too close.

Lucky pulled away and smiled sheepishly. "Man, this place was a mess. You're lucky I'm your oldest, dearest friend, otherwise I would have given up a long time ago."

"Thanks, Spence, it means a lot."

"Are you really okay, Lizzie?" he whispered when he hugged her again, this time more gently.

Elizabeth plastered on a fake smile. "Better than okay. Don't worry."

She hurried around the small studio, stuffing a suitcase full of clothes and a box full of art supplies. She didn't bother being self-conscious about the curious looks from her friends.

Elizabeth didn't really own a lot of material possessions and by the time she stopped packing, half her life was sitting by the door waiting to be taken to the monastery.

"Jeez, are you staying for a few days or moving in?" Lucky asked, amused.

Elizabeth offered him a bashful smile.

"It's a girl thing," Trisha offered.

"Yeah, what she said," Elizabeth agreed, shooting Trisha a grateful wink.

"Women!"

* * *

Sonny was in transit, bringing Dominic home, when Elizabeth and her suitcases landed on the doorstep. She knocked softly and stepped back.

Nervous energy knotted up her stomach. What was she doing? Had she really thought this through? And why _had_ she packed so much? Maybe Lucky wasn't totally off-base when he asked if she was moving in. Practically everything she owned rested on either side of her feet. Maybe this was a mistake.

Before she had a chance to hightail it out of there Jason answered the door, startling her out of her thoughts.

And then it was like everything fell into place.

"Hi," she said, brushing her hair out of her eyes and looking up at him. "I brought my stuff." She indicated the bags at her feet and spared another glance his way.

He wasn't looking at her.

"I might have over-packed just a little," she divulged, shrugging.

Jason remained silent, bending down and picking up her bags with ease. He led her inside.

She followed closely, contemplating, once again, this new arrangement. "Jason," she said, unsure, letting his name hang in the air, even while she trailed behind him up the stairs and down a long hallway.

In the middle of the hall she ceased to move, watching his retreating form. "Jason?"

He stopped, turning around to face her. His eyes were on her. They were so blue and beautiful she nearly stopped breathing.

"Are you sure this is really okay?" she probed.

Being a man of few words, Jason simply nodded and, deciding the conversation was over, began walking toward a group of closed doors at the end of the hall.

Elizabeth just couldn't accept that for an answer. Maybe he was just being polite when he told her she could stay. Maybe he really didn't want her here at all. All his actions thus far weren't exactly what she would consider inviting. "Because if it's not—okay, I mean—I could just go stay at the dorms with Trisha. She has a roommate already, but she's barely ever there. It wouldn't be a big deal. If I'm imposing at all, I--"

"Elizabeth," he said, stopping at the end of the hall, halting her movements, "It's fine."

"Really? Because I coul--"

"I don't mind," he said, gently. His hand hesitated above her shoulder before finally dropping to his side. "Sonny doesn't mind, either. Okay?"

"Okay."

Her gaze pinned him to the floor. Somehow he always wound up feeling exposed when she looked at him, like she could see right through him, right into the places that never got to see the light of day. In vain, he forced his eyes away. "So, uh, which room do you want?"

A soft, anxious laugh escaped her throat. "It doesn't matter. As long as there's a bed …or a couch, I'm good."

"I thought, maybe…" He walked over to the last door on the right, opening the door. "This room is nice."

Elizabeth walked past him, stepping inside the room.

The faint scent of cherry blossoms lingered in the air. Jason closed his eyes.

It was the most girl-friendly room in the whole house. Better yet it was farthest away from his room. Not that he didn't want Elizabeth close… But it was too risky. Farther was better. There was less temptation this way. He didn't even like that he _was_ tempted. That he thought about Elizabeth in ways that were far from chaste. That he imagined doing things to her and with her…

But he was a man. And human. And he had eyes. How could someone look at her and _not_ think about doing those things?

And that, right there, made him feel sick. He was no better than the animal that attacked her when she was barely a teenager and the jerk from the other night. But he couldn't deny it any longer. He did want her. He wanted to be with her. Because all they had was the here and now. Who knew what tomorrow would bring? And he was so tired of pushing her away.

"Jason?"

His eyes blinked open and he focused on Elizabeth, pushing down any inappropriate thoughts. "Yeah?"

"You okay?"

"Fine."

"Ok-ay. It's just… You kind of zoned out."

"I was just…thinking."

Elizabeth shrugged it off and took her first good look at the space. She noticed the feminine touches in the room immediately. The rest of the house was flanked in rich, bold masculine colors and furniture that was oversized and brazen--like men tend to be--and all the accessories were testosterone-testing displays in chrome and stainless steel. This room, though, was a light shade of purple, lavender almost, and the furniture was beautiful and dainty. There was a vanity against one of the walls and the bed was a beautiful mahogany four poster.

Jason tried not to stare. _Tried_, being the operative word. Elizabeth's hair was in this twisty kind of ponytail, exposing the expanse of her neck. It swished when she moved, even made a little noise that brought a smile to his face. And she wasn't wearing any makeup. It made her look really young. No one would have suspected what happened to her a few nights ago if it wasn't for the harsh bruises on her cheek and the scab on her lip.

"Wow. This is really nice." Elizabeth climbed onto the bed, stretching her arms out and feeling the wonderful way the down comforter molded to her body.

Jason watched her bounce down on the bed, unable to ignore the way her body looked swallowed up in the thick blankets. Her breasts rose and fell with her even breaths. It was wrong. Wrong to look at her like that, especially after what she'd been through.

Walking over to the window, Jason put half the room between them. He needed to physically distance himself from her right now. "There's, uh, the view."

"What?" she said, rising up on her elbows.

"The, um," he said, swallowing hard, "the view is really great from this, uh, this window."

Elizabeth climbed off the bed and stood beside him. There was a slight draft coming from the window and she crossed her arms around her middle. Jason stood tall beside her and she could feel the heat emanating off his body. Something inside of her clenched and she had to bite her lip to stop herself from moving closer. "Oh, wow, you're right."

His hands were moving before he gave them permission to, resting them on her shoulders and gently guiding Elizabeth closer. "Yeah. If you just…tilt your head a little, you can make out the, uh, the bridge."

Distractedly, she scanned outside, looking for the bridge that led to nowhere. There. Far in the distance, covered in fog and mystery, she saw the stone pathway. "It's beautiful."

Jason's fingers slipped from her shoulders. He tucked his hands in his pockets and his eyes slid to the floor. "I'll, um… I'll let you get settled."

He was moving before she even got a chance to turn around. When she did, his back was facing her and she could see the tension in his stance. "Jason?"

He stopped, turned around. His eyes were penetrating.

Throat dry, she could barely make words form. Her voice came out as a whisper. "Thanks."

Jason's face took on a mottled red glow. "It's not a big deal."

Elizabeth shook her head. "It is to me."


	15. Chapter 15

Title: Remembering Tibet  
Author: Kat/Yuppiekat  
Rating: R  
Disclaimer: I don't own...well, anything pertaining to GH.  
Summary: This is an Alternate Universe fic. (And, possibly, a strange one at that.)-- The past haunts Jason and Elizabeth. In order to heal, they'll need each other.  
Notes: There are a few things that you should know about this fic... This fic was started (I believe) in 2002, but time constraints and frustration about the show stalled the writing of this fic. I am in the middle of re-reading and revising all the chapters. I'm not sure how often I can post. I wish I had more time to work on this, but you'll have to settle for a sporadic posting schedule. The character of Lucky is, well, very out of character. I'm aware of that. There is also a lot of head hopping in this fic... Um, sorry about that.

* * *

Okay, so she was settled. More than settled. Which, really? Did nothing to explain why she'd been cooped up in her room for 48 hours straight. 

Jason and Sonny had been really good about giving her space. Too good, really. She'd hear them whispering by her door, hesitating, before knocking and asking her down for dinner. Her response was usually the same. She wasn't hungry. Or she had a headache. Or she was going to take a nap. But she was beginning to run out of excuses. And if the gnawing in her stomach was any indication, her appetite had returned.

It was time to bite the bullet. Besides, she really needed to have that talk with Sonny about Dominic. He'd been on her mind a lot. She'd even taken the time to solve that cold hands problem. They weren't perfect and they wouldn't match his jacket…okay, so they were downright ugly! But she'd only had yellow and orange yarn for some strange reason. Still, the mittens she'd knitted for him would keep him warm. It was the thought that counted, right?

Putting on her best brave face, Elizabeth slipped off the bed, feeling the coolness of the wood floor on her bare feet. She'd unpacked almost immediately after Jason had left her that first day, folding and arranging her clothing in the beautiful antique dresser against the far wall. She hung the few fancy articles of clothing she owned in the closet above the empty suitcases she'd tucked away there.

The box of art supplies and canvases still remained rooted in the same place she'd set them down two days ago. There wasn't a whole lot to be inspired about. There were assignments due for her art class, though. She couldn't ignore them forever. She just needed one more day—one more day to give her clarity and motivation. Or maybe two. Or three. One week and that's all. Just one week and she'd be back on top of things.

Today she had actually dressed. The previous day had mostly been spent in bed in her pajamas. It was a small accomplishment, but it was progress.

Her steps were skittish on the cold flooring while she made her way to the dresser. She was still trying to get used to the old house. The temperature fluctuated from one side of the room to the other and the floor was always like ice, but she liked the room too much to make mention of it to Sonny or Jason. Rifling through the drawer, she produced a pair of black socks and quickly put them on her feet. It was better, but her toes were still freezing.

Stepping into the hall, she walked down the long corridor until she hit the stairwell. The house was quiet save for the low creaking it made when she stepped over a particularly well-worn spot on the top of the stairs. She hurried down the rest of the stairs and stopped just outside of the living room. The crackle and smoky smell of wood burning alerted her that the fire was roaring and that someone was probably in the room.

She wasn't sure who she wanted to see when she tipped her head into the room, but was pleasantly surprised to see Sonny sitting in the leather lounge chair. His gaze was focused out the window. She took a few more steps into the room. "Sonny?"

Sonny turned his head, his eyes drifting up to meet hers. They were a warm, dark shade of brown. Recognition flickered and his smile soon appeared, baring his teeth and dime-sized dimples. "Elizabeth."

"Hey." Unconsciously, she bent her head and let her hair fall forward to cover her bruised face. She sauntered over to the ottoman closest to the fire to warm her feet.

Sonny set down the mug that had been resting in his hands and leaned forward. "How are you?"

It was such a hard question to answer. She didn't want to lie to him. But she didn't want him to worry, either. "Better, thanks."

And she was better. She had slept almost two hours last night before the nightmares had caused her to jackknife in bed, hugging her pillow to her chest and trying to squelch the rapid beat of her heart.

"Good," he said, but there was a lack of confidence in his voice. "Listen, I made lasagna. I know it's your favorite. You want some?"

She thought she'd been hungry, but the thought of food suddenly turned her stomach. "No. Thanks, Sonny, but I'm not really hungry."

She could see the concern flare in his eyes. God, she hated this. She hated having everyone walking on eggshells in their own home, afraid of what they said to her, afraid of how their actions would be perceived. But mostly, she hated that despite wanting more than anything to just give in and pretend she was okay, if only to see the concern melt away from their eyes, she couldn't bring herself to falsify her state of mind. And worst of all, she knew that however she was feeling it was okay. No one was asking her to be someone she wasn't.

"Elizabeth?"

"Yeah?"

His eyes were imploring. "Are you sure? Just a little, maybe?"

"I'm okay," she assured him, turning to look into the fire. The flames flickered, licking at the gray brick. The heat of his gaze seemed to burn hotter. She didn't turn, but her mouth opened and the words came out anyway. "What is it?"

"It's just…" He sighed.

She studied him with a painter's admiration, her gaze steady and focused. It wasn't hard to see the worry lines framing his eyes. The artist in her thought he looked tragically beautiful, but the woman in her, the friend, wanted him to stop hurting. She had put that look in his eyes. If only she knew how to take it back.

"Sonny—"

"You've lost weight…weight you can't afford to lose," he said, his voice hitching.

Pushing her hair out of her face, trying unsuccessfully to force a wayward curl behind her ear, Elizabeth attempted to smile. "I'm fine, Sonny. Stop worrying. I'll eat…I'll eat later. Okay?"

Sonny relaxed into his chair, but the worry still marred his features. Even his shoulders were tense. "Sure. Yeah, okay."

Elizabeth looked up, tilting her head the side, remembering her reason for being there. "Listen, I wanted to talk to you about Dominic."

Sonny's brows crinkled together. "Uh, okay. Did something happen?"

Elizabeth bit her lip debating how to broach the delicate subject. "Well, no. I mean, not really. But I have a feeling that he…" She struggled for the right approach.

Her feet had begun to thaw and she rubbed them back and forth against the soft area rug underneath them. She could feel Sonny's eyes on her.

"That he what?" he prompted.

Finally she looked at him and let her thoughts spill out in a tumble of words. "I just think he's a lot more sensitive than he may lead on. I know he may act tough, but… I talked to him and I get the impression that he hasn't grown up in the…_safest _environments."

Sonny sat back, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "I… I wondered that."

"Oh?"

"It's nothing," Sonny said, with a wave of his hand. Then his shoulders slumped. "Well, to tell you the truth… We had an _incident_."

Elizabeth's heart began to thump in her chest. "What do you mean?"

"He kind of…" Sonny shook his head. "I think he thought I was going to, uh--"

Elizabeth cringed. "Hit him?"

"Yeah." Sonny nodded. The regret shinned through his brown eyes. "I wouldn't, of course."

"No, I know," she assured him.

"We were putting away some of the ornaments. He dropped one. You can probably guess the rest."

Elizabeth felt her breath falter. "Which one?"

"What's that?" Sonny asked, lost in thought.

"Which one did he drop?"

He broke her gaze. "Oh. The, uh, the angel. The one--"

"That your wife bought. Oh, Sonny." She moved from her place by the fire, kneeling in front of him to take his hand in hers. His fingers were warm, comforting.

"Yeah." He shook his head. "I guess I yelled a little, but not… I didn't want him to cut himself, that's all."

She patted his hand. "I know. And the angel?"

Sonny smirked. "Good as new. Thanks to Jason."

Elizabeth felt her own smile trying to work its way to the surface. "Where is he now?"

"Outside. Come look." Sonny stood and ventured to the large window, overlooking the large monastery grounds.

Elizabeth sidled up to him, peering out the foggy window. The shape of the small boy easily made the smile finally break free on her face, but it was the much larger, leather-clad figure rolling around in the snow, that brought that smile into her eyes. "What are they doing?"

"It looks like they're building a snowman."

Outside the ground was covered in bright white snow. There were footprints all around Jason and Dominic and spots of grass poked through the places where they'd gathered up all the snow.

Elizabeth frowned. Neither one of them was dressed very warm. "They're going to get frostbite."

"I'll get Dominic some gloves."

"Wait," she said, touching Sonny's shoulder to stop him. "Let me. I could use the fresh air."

"Okay," he said and his gaze once again rested on the figures outside the window.

Elizabeth watched Sonny for a moment, watched the concern and affection streak across his face. He would have made a good father.

* * *

Elizabeth bounded up the stairs and into her room, gathering the mittens she had knit. Hastily, she pulled on an extra sweater and then her coat and hat, reaching inside her pockets for her own mittens. She found her boots in the hallway and tugged them on before she exited the house. 

She watched them for a moment, quiet, taking it all in. They didn't know she was there. At least, Dominic didn't. She saw Jason turn in her direction, a clump of snow in his bare hands, ready to build up the third layer of their snowman. She wondered, idly, if he could feel her presence. Because sometimes, sometimes when it was impossible to know where he was, she could sense him.

The air smelled clean, fresh like the layers of snow covering the ground and there was just a hint of smoke from the chimney wafting in the air.

She smiled. "Jason."

His spine straightened, seemingly surprised to see her. "Hi."

"You're not setting a very good example," she reprimanded. Her tone was light and she laughed softly.

She felt his eyes on her body, lifting slowly upward, over her curves, until their eyes locked. There was an affectionate glint in Jason's eyes—a crack in his otherwise stoic mystique—and it made Elizabeth's cheeks burn.

"What?"

"You should be wearing gloves."

"Uh…" He looked down at his hands, studied them. There were red and raw but he didn't feel the cold.

"Maybe you could find some…_inside_?"

Jason narrowed his eyes, his head rotating to the side.

Elizabeth tilted her head toward the house, hoping their silent communication skills still held some weight.

"Oh! Right. I'll, uh…I'll be back," he said, taking the wordless hint.

Jason watched her a minute before he retreated to the house. Her eyes were dim. That sparkle that they once possessed was hiding. The dark circles had been there for days and even Elizabeth had given up trying to cover them up with foundation. But all he could see was how beautiful she looked standing in the snow, white flakes dancing around her and tickling her skin.

Taking one last look, he headed inside.

Elizabeth was quiet watching Jason retreat. She waited until the door to the house was closed and Jason was safely inside before her attention turned back to Dominic. He was still working feverishly on the gigantic snowman.

She whistled low. "Wow. That is one monstrous snowman."

Dominic stopped working to appraise the large snowman in front of him. It towered over him. Jason was the best snow man builder there ever was. "Wanna help?"

She smiled and it was genuine. "I thought you'd never ask. I love the snow," she said, absently.

"Me, too! So does Jason. He said there are places that have snow all year round. Do you think that's true or was he pulling my leg?"

The question was innocent enough, but in the world Dominic grew up in, lies fell around him like the flakes of snow currently falling from the sky. He needed affirmation that Jason was not a liar. That there was something and someone to believe in, that there was still hope in this messed-up world. Or maybe that was Elizabeth projecting. Whatever the case, his eyes implored her for an answer.

Elizabeth shrugged. "It's probably true."

"Jason's pretty smart, don't you think?"

"Yes," she answered without hesitation.

Her quick response seemed to satisfy him.

"We're going to get sticks for arms and coal for his eyes. Jason says he can help me find some."

Butterflies were swarming in her stomach. The way Dominic's whole face lit up when he spoke of Jason…she had to wonder if it mirrored her own expression. "That's wonderful. Jason's… He's… You have fun with him?"

"He's the best! He knows _so_ much stuff. Did you know that each step a giraffe takes can be up to fifteen feet long? You could never keep up with them! Jason says you'd have to run," he said, excited.

Elizabeth laughed at his enthusiasm. "No, I-I didn't know that."

"Jason knows loads of stuff like that. He said that I could even borrow some of his books on Africa if I wanted. Isn't that cool?"

"That's very nice of him."

There was something eager and childlike coming off of Dominic—a child that hadn't been allowed to be a child for a very long time. A little bit of innocence had returned to his eyes. Jason had given him that. If she knew nothing else about Jason, that fact alone, would have made her like him.

Elizabeth kicked at the white bank by her feet, bending down and grabbing a fistful of snow. She pressed it together and smoothed it over the second layer of the snowman, flattening out a rough patch.

Her eyes wandered of their own accord back to Dominic. She studied his hauntingly familiar face, his dark eyes. The skin on his face was red and blotchy, his ears a dangerous shade of red. His hair was a little wet from the falling snow and it curled at the nape of his neck. Elizabeth felt something twist inside her. Taking a step closer, she pulled off her hat and quietly, gently, smoothed it onto his head.

He looked up at her, his eyes unreadable.

"You looked cold," she said, softly, as way of explanation.

His mouth opened, but no words came. He watched her a minute before he dropped his eyes back to the snowman.

Then she remembered the mittens in her pocket. "Hey, uh…I got you something."

"Yeah?" he asked, skeptical.

"It's not much. Here," she said, handing the orange and yellow atrocities to him.

He studied them, one at a time.

"They're mittens. I knit them myself. Not very exciting, but they'll keep you warm." Elizabeth contained her laughter while she looked down at him.

"These are…"

"Ugly?" she said, smiling. "I know. Sorry about that."

He smirked. "I'll wear them. I guess."

"Good. I'm glad."

"Thanks."

Her gaze strayed to the house. She could only just make out a shape against the window. It was enough to remember why she'd come outside to begin with.

"I guess Sonny sent you out here to talk to me." It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact.

The kid was perceptive. That innocence she had just seen not a moment ago had floated away like a wayward promise. His eyes were hard again. The child was gone.

Her mouth hung open. "What?"

"It's _so_ obvious."

"Okay," she said and threw the snow she had just collected out of her hands. "I did want to talk to you about Sonny. But only if you want to."

The silence hung in the air, thick and heavy. She could understand if he didn't want to talk about it. She wasn't going to force him.

"Elizabeth?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think…" he said, hesitating.

"What is it?" Her concern was mounting.

"I was just wonderin' if… Do you think Sonny likes me?"

"Of course he does! What makes you think…?" Elizabeth sighed. Despite how he acted, this was still a child standing in front of her—a highly intelligent and wise child, but a child nonetheless. She had to reassure him the best way she knew how. "Listen, Dominic, before? When Sonny yelled at you, it wasn't because he was mad at you for breaking the angel…he was afraid _for_ you. He didn't want you to get hurt. Do you understand?"

Dominic shifted his weight, but refused to look at her. "I guess."

"He didn't mean to scare you," she said, gently placing her hand under his chin and lifting his head so she could see into his eyes. He averted his gaze, but didn't pull away.

"He didn't," he said, nonchalantly, lifting one shoulder in an all-too-casual shrug.

Elizabeth sighed. "It's okay to admit to being afraid. Everyone is afraid of something."

"Not Sonny. Not Jason," he replied, adamant. His lashes lifted and his brown eyes sought out her blue ones, holding them suspended.

"You'd be surprised," she said, softly. "They might hide it well, but there are things that scare them."

He weighed this. "But… They're big and strong…what would they be afraid of?"

She understood now. Understood why he hid his emotions so deeply inside. He thought he had to be so strong. That being a man meant that you couldn't have any fears and that you had to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. Elizabeth stood in awe of this boy; this boy that thought he had to be a man and that being a man meant you were devoid of human emotions.

"Lots of things. Maybe even the same things that you're afraid of."

"Really?" This time his eyes were wide and honest.

"Really."

"He's really not mad?"

She touched his cheek. "Not even a bit."

"Elizabeth?"

"Yeah?"

He shifted his weight. "I think Sonny thinks I'm his son."

The statement threw her. More than threw her. She was at a loss. "What?"

His brows crinkled into a V. "I… I heard one of the guards and I saw that picture you drew. It looks like me."

Elizabeth felt like she couldn't get a full breath. "Dominic."

Shifting, she saw the glimmer of tears hiding in his eyes.

He was shaking his head, determined to stamp out the possibility. "It's not me, Elizabeth. He wants it to be, but it's not me."

She tugged him to her. "Oh, honey."

* * *

It was New Year's Eve and instead of painting the town red, Elizabeth was settling in for a quiet, low-key night. While Lucky and Trisha were bar-hopping, getting shit-faced, making asses of themselves and, generally, making the most of their youth, she was cozying up on a couch waiting to ring in the new year with a child, an ex-mobster and a handyman. She labeled them simply, but none of the people surrounding her could be defined by such simple terms. 

There was a time when the stillness, the calm, would have bothered her. It meant bigger things were about to happen. But her guard wasn't up. She was just having a nice evening at home.

Only…it wasn't her home. Not really. Sure, she had a room here. A nice room, actually, with a great view. But that didn't make it her home. So why did she feel so comfortable? Why did this just feel…_right_?

It was the first time since coming to Port Charles that she _really_ felt like she belonged somewhere.

Elizabeth watched Jason and Dominic putting together a puzzle. From across the room, she caught Sonny's eye and she smiled.

At first Elizabeth had been worried about Sonny's involvement with Dominic. He was such a fragile little boy, even if he tried to make the world believe he was a tough ragamuffin that didn't need anyone.

She feared Sonny was spending time with him for the wrong reasons, trying to reclaim time with a son long lost. Making sure that was not the case was essential, especially now that Dominic was aware of the similarities he possessed with the other boy.

That might have been what had brought them initially together, but that wasn't what was keeping them together. She'd realized the good that it had done them both. Sonny's eyes weren't as dark. The demons that had always haunted him had started to recede. And Dominic had blossomed.

The Nuns could see it, too. That's why they'd agreed to this impromptu sleepover. It was against regulations, but there were so many children that needed so much that it was easy for one to get lost in the shuffle. Dominic was a bright boy and no one wanted to see that happen to him. If Sonny could break through his walls, they didn't want to stop this progress. They knew about Sonny's background and it took many people to speak on the ex-mobsters behalf before they agreed to look the other way.

Elizabeth's only worry was that they had all become too attached. Dominic had won them all over in such a short amount of time. Even Jason. Children could do that, though. It was easier to put down your barriers with a child.

But eventually Dominic could be adopted and he would leave behind him a trail of broken hearts. It was true that most children Dominic's age rarely got adopted and often grew up in the system. But if it ever did happen, it would devastate Sonny. And it wasn't like Sonny could adopt him. He had a record and no one was going to give custody of an impressionable youth to an ex-mobster. The Nuns were already taking their chances, even allowing him to be around Dominic.

If anything ever happened…

"I don't think this one's going to make it past ten o'clock," Sonny said, ruffling Dominic's unruly mop of dark hair when he let out a drawn-out yawn.

"I always stay up _way_ past the countdown!" Dominic protested, groggily.

"Well, I'll be lucky if I make it," Elizabeth said, emitting a small yawn to prove her point.

Puzzle completed, Jason moved so he was sitting beside her on the couch. She could feel the warmth of him through the thin stretchy layer of her track pants. They weren't touching except for the inconsequential spot on his thigh where her knee just barely brushed. But the heat of that menial contact made her flush.

The fireplace was crackling, deep orange and yellow flames flickered, casting shadows on the walls.

Elizabeth yawned again and sighed.

Sonny smirked. "Maybe we should start the celebrating now, just in case?"

"Sounds good to me," she said, moving more comfortably onto the couch.

Sonny popped the cork on the Dom Perignon that had been chilling in an ice bath. It made a loud pop and Elizabeth couldn't help the tension that wound through her body. She watched Sonny pouring the liquid, not spilling a drop.

"Champagne?"

"Please," she said, taking the offered glass.

Sonny set aside his own glass and passed one to Jason.

"What about me?" Dominic asked, his eyes blinking rapidly to stave off the need to close them.

Sonny took another bottle out of the ice and popped the cork and poured the liquid into a glass.

"Here," Sonny said, handing him the same champagne flutes the rest of them were using.

Dominic's eyes widened, impressed.

"It's sparkling cider," Sonny whispered to Elizabeth, winking.

She smiled and rolled her eyes.

Sonny raised his glass. "Here's to…?"

"Happiness," Elizabeth whispered, surprising herself. But it was exactly what she wanted—just a little happiness, however fleeting.

She could feel everyone's eyes on her, so she smiled. "Or whatever."

"No, I like that," Sonny said, raising his glass again. "It's simple and perfect. To happiness!"

"To happiness!" They all said in unison.

She watched Dominic on the carpet, fighting the sleep that was pulling at him, trying to fight her own body's need for sleep that was tugging her farther against the cushions on the couch. Maybe if she just rested her eyes, just for a minute…

* * *

Awareness came to her slowly. She was not in her bed and it was not her pillows and mattress that felt so nice and warm against her skin. She blinked a few times, wanting to hold onto the last vestiges of sleep even when they began to evaporate and her mind snapped to attention. 

The first thing she noticed was that the fire had died down. The room was not completely cold, but it was not filled with the same all-consuming warmth that had lulled her to sleep. Instead a tepid heat kept her from shivering, it pressed more insistently against her right side.

And that's when she knew.

His shirt was soft cotton and it felt nice against her cheek. But what was under his shirt, the strong, tightly muscled chest and beating heart, was what made her face flame with embarrassment. She dared not to lift her head. Not only did she refuse to lose the heat, but she also didn't want to see his eyes.

She didn't question why she wasn't nervous, why the thought of falling asleep in his arms seemed so natural and how she wasn't the least bit frightened. No one had ever made her feel the way Jason did. No one had ever engraved themselves so fully into her life. And she knew, even while she burrowed further against his side, that she should be feeling some type of apprehension. Her guard should have been up. After what had happened to her when she was a teenager and what almost happened a week ago in the park, she should have felt...something.

But it had been Jason that had found her—Jason that had _rescued_ her. Jason, whose arm was wrapped protectively across her shoulders. Jason, whose warmth and scent put her at ease. She knew his eyes. The way he looked at her, like he could see into her soul, all the broken jagged edges. And she knew his heart and she trusted him with hers.

He shifted. The steady rhythm of his heart quickened and she knew that he knew she was awake.

Begrudgingly she sat up and wiped a hand down her face. "What happened?"

"You fell asleep," he answered simply.

She smiled. "Oh. Sorry."

"You were tired," he said, lifting his hand and gently pulling hers away so he could look into her eyes.

His eyes were so blue, even in the dark room. So blue and so kind.

He didn't remove his hand right away. Instead let it linger on her cheek while his fingers played a soft rhythm against her temple.

She responded to his touch, pressing against his palm and closing her eyes.

"Elizabeth."

Her eyes snapped open, realizing that voice sounded closer. His hand lingered a second longer and then dropped to his lap.

God, she couldn't look into his eyes and not blush; she could feel the heat blooming on her cheeks. She turned her head, hoping he wouldn't notice. Casting her eyes downward, a small smile tugged at her lips. "I didn't drool on you, did I?"

She could see him smile from the corner of her eye. It made her heart speed up just a little.

"No. I'm drool free."

She nodded. "Good, good. Because _that_ would be embarrassing…_more_ embarrassing."

"Don't be embarrassed."

"Okay." She realized their bodies were still touching, his thigh was still pressed against her thigh and although she loved the feeling, she scooted away from him. "Um, so… Where is everyone?"

"Sonny put Dominic to bed hours ago and then turned in for the night."

She licked her lips out of habit. The house could get so dry and she was without her lip balm. Her eyes quickly darted to Jason's and she stopped and stared at what she saw there. His eyes had changed, darkened. There was something that looked like desire there, just barely hidden in the depths of his incredible blues. But it couldn't be.

"What time is it?"

Jason checked his watch. "Just past two."

She ran a hand through her hair, conscious of the fact that he hadn't taken his eyes off of her. In fact, she felt rather exposed. "Okay, now I feel like a complete dork. I'm sorry I kept you from going to sleep."

"I'm fine," he said with a convincing half-smile.

Damn him and his little half-smiles. They were going to be the death of her. There was a twinkle in his eyes when hers connected with them and she felt a familiar flutter, low in her belly. Jesus.

She cleared her throat. "You're being polite, but I'll get up and let you get some rest."

She stumbled to her feet.

That was her first mistake. Because the instant her left leg hit the ground a tremendous cramp latched itself inside her calf.

The second mistake was grabbing onto Jason's outstretched hand to prevent herself from falling.

The third mistake—and this was the biggie—was watching, idly, while Jason crouched down, letting go of her hand and re-anchoring it onto his shoulder, while his fingers inched their way up her pant leg and over the soft skin stretched over her calf muscle. His fingers massaged the area while she hobbled around, ever aware of the warmth radiating from his palm.

"Oooh. It hurts! Ow! Ow! Ow!"

"Stop moving," he whispered. His voice was thick and husky.

She tried. She did. But the instant she stopped moving, the pain increased and the feel of his skin against hers seeped into her pores, working its way to her brain where she was going to permanently lock it away in case she never got to feel this way again.

"I can't. It hurts!"

"Show me where?"

Moving. His fingers were moving higher up her leg, leaving spurs of awareness. His hands were so strong and so warm. And his fingertips! God! His fingertips danced against her skin, teasing her and taunting her and driving her insane.

Reaching down, she sought out her painful calf, almost unable to sort out the pleasure from the pain. Their hands bumped. Her fingers, unwittingly twined with his, sliding over her calf in soothing strokes.

Oh, God.

She pulled her hand back.

She felt something intense coiling inside of her. And, oddly, the pervading thought in her head was: _thank God I shaved my legs!_

Pushing lightly on his shoulders, she got him to look at her.

"I think I'm okay now," she said, attempting to step away. His hand was still wrapped around her leg, his fingers working magic on the knot.

He looked skeptical.

"Really," she assured him.

The moment he released her, she felt the loss. Something inside of her tore. She wanted to reach out, to take his hand, to say something, anything, about what she was feeling, but the words wouldn't come to her.

She wasn't sure what he was thinking or even how he was feeling. It was all so new. Relationships weren't her thing. And she wasn't even sure if that was what she and Jason had.

As afraid as she had been_ that_ night, and even before then, maybe since she was fifteen, something had definitely shifted when she met Jason. Even that first day, with his face stoic and his chest exposed, she had felt something pull tight inside of herself, something she hadn't felt in so long she forgot that she could. She couldn't deny her attraction to Jason. Couldn't deny that after years of not wanting to be touched by a man, the thought of Jason touching her… It actually made her physically ache.

But it was too soon. She wasn't ready to push the boundaries.

God, she was such a mess!

Jason stood, his hands dropping to his sides.

Elizabeth tried to brush past him.

He caught her arm at the crook of her elbow and turned her around. "You're limping."

She rolled her eyes. "I always walk like this."

He gave her a stern look.

"Fine. But I'm okay. I-I think I'm just going to go to bed."

"I'll carry you."

"What?!"

No. No way! There was no way she was going to let him carry her.

He folded his arms across his chest and she couldn't help admiring the way his shirt pulled tight around his biceps.

"Does it hurt to walk on?"

"Yes. No. Maybe," she faltered, fumbling for the right answer—the answer that would allow her to get upstairs on her own volition. "Regardless, you don't need to carry me."

"Humor me?"

With a tentative step, she felt the tightness in her leg. Her eyes traveled to the stairs and then back to Jason. Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, she nodded. "Okay."

His arm wrapped around her knees, the other bracing her back, swooping her easily into his arms.

Their eyes locked.

She saw his head shift before she felt his breath fanning over her cheek.

She focused on his mouth—on the shape of it. And then her eyes lingered on his tongue when it darted out to moisten his lips.

Her eyes started to close.

And then her stomach growled.

She slapped her hand over her mouth. Talk about mood-killer. "Sorry. My stomach. I don't know what's—"

"You haven't been eating."

"I have."

"No, you haven't," he said, firmly.

She blew out a stream of air. "Why is everyone suddenly so concerned with my weight?"

He ignored her question, instead focusing on the rumbling of her stomach. "Would you let me make you something?"

She hesitated. He was right. She _hadn't_ been eating. Nothing seemed to taste right. Not Sonny's gourmet meals or extravagant desserts, not even the cheeseburger from Kelly's Trisha had shoved at her the other day.

"I…" Her stomach rumbled again. "Yes."

"Okay," he said. His face relaxed. Relief was etched in the lines around his eyes.

She wondered if he'd been anticipating an argument.

Expecting him to take her into the kitchen, she was surprised when instead he turned toward the stairwell.

He took the stairs slowly, feeling his way in the dark.

Elizabeth laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, allowing herself to hold onto the moment just for a second when her room came into view.

He deposited her in the middle of the bed. The instant he let go, she missed his warmth but her face remained impassive.

"I'll be back with food."

It sounded like a command. Chills ran up her spine. All she could do was nod and watch him walk away.

Jason walked down the corridor, making a detour into his own room. Opening the desk drawer, he pulled out the handkerchief he'd been storing there for much too long. Placing it in his pocket, he continued on out of the room and down the stairs into the kitchen.

Elizabeth settled into the bed, not bothering to change. The pants she had on had practically become pajamas. She pulled her sweater over her head and threw it across the room, satisfied when it landed on the chair in the corner. The thin white long-sleeved t-shirt she wore underneath would be fine to sleep in.

Fidgeting on the bed, she tucked a pillow behind her back and crossed her legs Indian-style in front of her.

It seemed Jason had only been gone a few minutes when the door opened and he came in carrying a tray of food. The clock told her otherwise. Nearly twenty minutes had passed.

"Grilled cheese, okay?" he said, gesturing to the plate.

Elizabeth watched him set it down in front of her and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Yeah. Thank you."

She took her first real look at the tray sitting on top of the deep purple comforter Sonny had insisted on buying her the other day. He said the room needed something and the white duvet just wasn't cutting it. Fighting him only made him throw in a new set of decorative pillows.

There was a grill cheese sandwich, a glass of ice water and a mug of hot chocolate. Focusing on the hot chocolate, she noticed Jason had gotten it just right. Chocolate syrup, sprinkles and she didn't doubt three packets split two ways.

"Jason."

Jason scratched behind his ear, his eyes not quite meeting hers. "Sorry, I'm not… Sonny's better at this."

She smiled. She didn't care if it was a four course meal or bread and water. It was the fact that he knew what her favorite drink was that had a lump forming in her throat.

"It looks good," she said and it did. Gingerly she reached out and took half of the sandwich. He'd used the nice whole wheat bread Sonny baked from scratch that she had always favored. There was no processed cheese. Sonny refused to have it in his fridge. Instead inside the bread there was a combination of Fontina, mozzarella and just the barest hint of the spicy havarti imported from Denmark she had mentioned once she liked. Her stomach rumbled and her mouth watered.

"Will you stay and, you know…keep me company while I eat?"

Jason didn't move.

She shook her head. "No. You know what? You don't have to. You're probably tired and it's not fair of me to ask—"

"Sure."

Restraining the smile working its way onto her face was impossible. She gestured to the bottom of the bed.

He looked at the spot and then around the room. His eyes landed on the chair, before falling back on the place her hand still rested.

"I won't bite," she teased.

He nodded and took a seat, keeping one foot on the ground.

She ate in silence and she watched Jason.

His eyes were focused on the boxes of art supplies she still hadn't put away. The intensity in his eyes made her uncomfortable and left her feeling a little guilty. She hadn't picked up a paintbrush in over a week and her sketchpad was collecting dust.

"That was really good," she said, after swallowing the last bite. "Thank you, Jason."

It was better than good. In fact, it was the best grilled cheese and hot chocolate she'd ever had.

His voice broke through the quiet. It was low and scratchy. "Promise me you won't do this again."

"Do what?"

"Not eat."

Crossing her arms over her chest, her defenses were officially up. "I didn't do it on purpose. I just couldn't."

"I know," he said. "But it's not good for you. I… I worry about you." His voice was melodic, spinning a song and crashing down her walls.

She uncrossed her arms. "Okay."

"Okay, what?"

"Okay, I promise."

Jason took the tray and set it on the mahogany nightstand. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the handkerchief, handing it to her. "Here."

"Wha—?" She opened the handkerchief and felt the tears prick her eyes.

"I thought you might want them back." There was something anxious in his voice, like he wasn't sure of himself.

Elizabeth looked down at her perfect glass doves. Her fingers traced the fine details. With everything that had happened, she hadn't thought to ask for them.

"I wasn't sure if…" His voice hitched. "I hope you still—"

"Yes. I love them."

He swallowed thickly. "I'm glad."

Elizabeth yawned, stretching. Sleep was beckoning her. Pulling down the blanket on her bed, she slipped under the sheet and settled against the pillows.

Jason could only watch.

"Jason," she said, waiting until he looked at her. "Thank you. For the food. For these," she said, gesturing to her glass doves that she had yet to let go of, "For… For everything."

"You're welcome." He stepped forward, unsure.

A moment passed in silence.

Elizabeth felt the war within her own heart. She bit her lip and waited.

Decidedly, he claimed another step. Bending down, he gently laid a kiss just above her eyebrow. "Goodnight, Elizabeth."

"'Night."

Picking up the tray with one hand, he moved to the door. The lights flickered out.

Elizabeth could just barely see him silhouetted in her doorway. "Jason?"

"Yeah?" he said, turning. He strained his eyes in the dark.

She smiled. "Happy New Years."

"Happy New Year."

* * *

The bruises were fading little by little each day. Her skin, once a violent purple, had mellowed into a soft yellowy-blue. The less the bruises showed on the outside, the more she healed on the inside. The anger has receded. But it was still there. It was still very much a part of her. 

Elizabeth knew she was more or less wallowing in self-pity. Yes, she was being petulant, but with good reason. She realized, however, that getting depressed wasn't going to solve anything. So when Jason got the bright idea to teach her self-defense she took him up on his offer. After all, what else was she going to do? Crawl up into a ball and give up? No way. That wasn't her style.

* * *

Jason didn't like seeing Elizabeth moping around the house, looking so lost. She had barely been out of the house and stuck pretty close when she did go outside. 

Things were_ weird _between them. Any of the closeness they had at the Christmas party had slowly been devoured by awkwardness. And, okay, New Years had been unexpected, but just because she fell asleep against him didn't mean that anything was better. So maybe she trusted him…a little. She still walked around like a skittish mouse.

Every time he thought he'd gotten past her barriers, something came between them. It was like they were doing a different kind of dance. One step forward, two steps back.

Elizabeth spent most of her time playing with Dominic or talking to Sonny. She certainly wasn't spending time with him.

So, it was only fair that it took him so long to clue into the fact that Elizabeth was not doing well at all. Despite what she said, he saw it in her eyes and in her actions. It was only two days ago when he noticed how she tensed whenever one of the guards came into a room. She instantly looked regretful when she did so.

There was a change in her. She didn't smile as much and her laughter was never as bright. Jason decided they needed to do something about it before it got worse...before her walls were too high and she stopped letting him in completely.

The only thing he could think of was teaching her self-defense. He hadn't expected her to agree.

* * *

Elizabeth followed closely behind Jason down a flight of stairs into the finished basement. Large cross beams stood proud in various spots around the pseudo gym, holding up the frame of the grand house. Blue mats, that reminded her of gymnastics class, lined the floor. And there, in the middle of all the weights, elliptical machine and treadmill, was a red heavy bag. A very well-used heavy bag. 

Elizabeth crept up beside the bag. She laughed internally at the slashes of duct tape used to keep it together. Men.

"Sooo…where do we start?" She gave the offending bag a light push, surprising herself when it swung back at her, narrowly missing.

"You, uh, you should probably stretch first."

"Oh, okay."

Elizabeth felt silly. Working out wasn't exactly something she did on a regular basis. Because she didn't own a car, she walked enough to keep herself trim and fit and she'd always had a high metabolism.

From the corner of her eye she watched Jason. They were both wearing cotton sweats. She'd been wearing sweats for days. They were comfortable. But they'd started to become a uniform—shapeless and bland. It hadn't bothered her until now.

Jason stretched silently, warming up his muscles. She watched them flex and strain with each practiced movement.

It took her a solid minute to realize she was staring. She cleared her throat. "So, that girl--"

Jason stopped, facing her. "What girl?"

She'd been waiting for the right opportunity to bring this up, but there never seemed to be a good time. Worst of all, she just couldn't get the image out of her head. Jason, _her _Jason, and some blonde woman engaged in an intense lip-lock. It played over and over in her head like those lame filmstrips in seventh grade, the ones where the audio and visual were never in sync. Because she knew what she saw, but everything around her was garbled and it just didn't fit with the man she had come to care so much for. It didn't make sense.

"Right, well. I guess she was more of a woman…at least more than…" She looked down at herself, her eyes drifting over her flat stomach and small breasts. God, it was no wonder. "Never mind. That's not the point. The point is that, the woman...? You know, the, uh, the one that you…kissed. I just wanted to say--"

"Elizabeth?" His voice sounded very loud in the large space. It echoed off the walls.

"Yes?"

Jason made sure to look her in the eye. "_She_ kissed _me_."

Her shoulders slumped just a little. He'd confirmed it really had happened. She hadn't just made it up in her head. "Okay. And?"

"And nothing."

"No, but Jason. I'm just saying that it's okay. That what we… Well, that is, the kiss that happened between us--"

"Kisses."

"Huh?"

"Plural. There were two." There was a challenge in his eyes—a silent flash begging her to test him.

She refused to rise to the occasion.

"Oh, yeah, well, I know. But I'm just saying that if that woman… Well, if she is more your type…" She groaned. This was getting her nowhere. If she could just spit it out… Just end this torture! Then they could move on or start over…or something! Things had been so much easier when he didn't talk!

"Not saying that you have a type. I don't even have any idea, really. Because you've only just started communicating with words and it's not like I've had time to really ask you yet. Not that I would ask. And even if I did, it really isn't any of my business. I just wanted to say… Well, I just don't want you to feel like you owe me anything. I mean, it was just a kiss."

He smiled crookedly. "Two."

Elizabeth's throat felt tight and it hurt when she tried to swallow. "Yeah. Yeah, that's what I meant. Two."

He could lie to her. It would make things easier. She might even hate him. He could tell her that all along there had been someone else. That what they had didn't matter. But he'd never been a good liar. And he couldn't do that to either of them. He couldn't make what they shared into something cheap and superficial, because it went so much deeper.

Elizabeth stood, rooted to the same spot, watching Jason pull out boxing gloves and a roll of thick white tape from the duffle bag in the corner of the room.

He turned to her, his eyes seeking hers, moving slowly until he was less than a foot away. "Now, are you ready to do this?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sure. Although, I don't really see how hitting some stupid bag hanging from the ceiling is going to empower me. Watch out bad guys because Elizabeth Webber is skilled in the great art of hitting things that are on strings! Oh, look out! Wayward Piñatas? Chandeliers? Puh-lease, they are no match for me! Hey, what else hangs from the ceiling?" Elizabeth gabbed sarcastically, holding out her fists like she was a force to be reckoned with.

"Elizabeth." He sighed. This was going to be harder than he thought. All she needed was one minute, one second of clarity where she broke free of the bonds these awful men had put on her. He sort of hoped it would be here.

She turned her eyes from Jason. "I'm sorry. Seriously, Jason, this is a waste of time."

Jason had been respecting her space, never getting too close, never touching her for too long, but he took a step forward, took a chance, and put his hand on her shoulder. "I'm not going to force you to do this, but…would you give it a chance?"

"What's the point?"

He had to smile. She didn't ask the question because she was giving up or giving in. She said it because Elizabeth liked to be defiant sometimes. She liked to be a bit of a rebel. It was one of the first things he'd noticed about her. To see that part of her personality shine through made him think that they were taking a step in the right direction.

"Hey," he said, lifting his hand to her face and tilting her chin until she looked him in the eye, "you and I both know you still don't feel safe and this is the only way I can think of to give you back some power," Jason rationalized.

"Fine, fine. Whatever. But this better not mess up my manicure."

Jason smiled.

And then the corners of her lips curled and she was smiling too. "I'm just saying. Trisha would kill me. I get enough flack for biting them sometimes."

They were looking into each other's eyes, holding their breaths, seeing who would look away first.

Jason caved.

There was something so intense lurking behind her deep blue eyes. She looked at him in a way no one else had before. Sometimes he felt that he really wasn't worth that kind of devotion.

"Here, um, give me your hands," Jason said, shyly.

It amazed him the way she rested her delicate hands on top of his own. The way she trusted him always amazed him. The way he trusted her amazed him more.

Elizabeth could feel her heart speed up. His fingers were warm against her palm where he positioned the tape and began to roll it over her delicate skin.

He ripped the last piece of tape with his teeth, securing it over her knuckles. Patting down the tape, he made sure it was secure. "Okay, flex your fingers."

"Like this?" she asked, wiggling her fingers and making fists.

"Too tight?"

"Nope."

"Okay," he said, grabbing the red gloves from the floor and holding them open for her. "Push your hand into this."

Elizabeth did as requested, first with her right hand and then her left. "Now what?"

"Get use to the feel of those. Punch the bag a little."

"Like this?" She tapped the heavy bag with the side of her fists, admittedly not the most ferocious punch there ever was.

"A little harder. You won't break it."

"Okay," she said, focusing on the bag and striking.

She pulled her hand back and shook out her wrist.

"Better, but you're going to break a bone like that. Here," he said, raising his fists and demonstrating. Jason hit the bag first with his right hand, a quick jab that made it swing back and forth, and then followed up with his left, not daunted by the motion of the bag.

"Okay, that was very macho," she teased.

Jason bowed his head and Elizabeth smirked at the blush covering his cheeks.

Elizabeth stepped up close to the bag, turning her fist like she'd watched Jason do and took a swing at the bag. It was harder than she'd anticipated, and the force of the blow combined with the swinging heavy bag surging toward her knocked her on her butt.

Jason crouched down next to her. He offered his hand. He had the grace not to smile.

"Don't," she said, accepting his hand and getting back up on her feet.

"The first thing you should remember is to never underestimate your attacker."

"This is so humiliating! I can't even fight a stupid bag hanging from the ceiling."

There was humor in her tone, but Jason recognized the urgency underneath.

"Hey, the second thing to remember is that there is no fair when you're fighting for your life. The goal is always to get away. That's it. What happened to you…? It wasn't fair, Elizabeth. You have to count on cowards."

"Jason."

He was bringing things up that she didn't want to talk about. Not again.

"Words have power, Elizabeth, but so does silence. Don't let this eat you up. Don't give it the power to. If you need to vent, I want you to."

"Oh, no, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"Fine, but you're a guy and guys just don't get it."

"Try me."

She threw the gloves to the floor, pulling at the tape. It felt constricting, like her skin couldn't breathe. Like _she _couldn't breathe.

"Do you know what it's like to base your entire life on whether or not you're going to be safe at night? I used to do my laundry during the day because I was afraid to go out past seven. Afraid of the things I couldn't see.

"When I was…r-raped, I didn't deal with it the right way. I guess I'm starting to realize that I didn't really deal with it at all. I thought I was over it, but now I know… I'll never get over it, simply because I'm a woman. And as a woman there are certain things I can't change. I can't defend myself against a man, Jason. No matter how hard I try to fight him off, I'll never be able to. And it doesn't matter how many self-defense classes I take or whether I carry pepper spray or not, because I'm always going to be afraid. That fear doesn't go away.

"It lives inside me. It consumed me for a long time. I won't lie about that. I mean, it's like a force of its own. And I never wanted to be in that place again, I never wanted to give that fear power again. But it's so easy to fall back into old patterns, to hide. I promised myself I would _never_ be that girl again. I vowed that I would be a strong person. That it wouldn't rule my life or my decisions and it hasn't for a long time. I moved on. I want to be able to do that again. But right now... I don't know how to."

"Do you trust me, Elizabeth?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Elizabeth hesitated and then averted her eyes. How was she supposed to tell him that he was one of the only people she had ever trusted and trust did not come easy in her life? The best way, the only way, was to simply tell the truth.

"Yes. I probably trust you more than I've trusted anyone in a long time. Satisfied?" She quirked her own brows and smiled ruefully.

"No. This isn't supposed to feel like I'm making you do something you don't want to. Why don't we try this another time?"

He grabbed his duffel bag and swung it over his shoulder with every intention of leaving her standing on the gym floor by herself. Or so he was leading her to believe.

"So, that's it? You're just going to give up on me?"

Her eyes were soft when she looked at him and he could feel his heart swell. He threw the bag back on the ground and walked toward her, taking her hands in his.

"Elizabeth, I'm not giving up on you. All I want is for you to be okay again. However long it takes. I want you to be the girl who kicked me in the groin because you thought I was trying to hurt you. I want to see that light in your eyes when you draw or paint. I don't want you to hurt anymore."

"I'm sorry," she said.

"I don't want you sorry." He moved one of his hands and captured a curly lock that had fallen out of place. He rubbed the hair between his fingers and then manipulated it back into place. His hand settled on her cheek and his thumb lightly traced her jaw, softly stroking it. "I want you to be okay, but it doesn't have to be today."

"I am okay," she said weakly, even though she could feel the tears gathering in her eyes.

Without any more talking, he took her in his arms and held her close. "You're so brave," he soothed, running his fingers through her hair.

"You call this brave?" she mumbled into his chest.

"Yeah, I do. I never have the right words, Elizabeth. I'm not articulate and I don't ever think I could really tell you how you make me feel. But I want you to know I would rather die than let anything bad happen to you."

Elizabeth pulled back, half sniffling and half laughing. "You can't use a word like articulate and expect your argument to be very strong, Jason."

Jason gave that one to her. "Fine, but I'm still not good with words."

"I don't need words. We-we didn't have them before."

Their eyes locked, understanding passing between them.

"Okay. Let's try something different."

This time Jason reached for a baseball bat.

"A bat will give you distance. Aim for the knees. As soon as he's down, you run," he said.

"Jason, no offence, but it's not like I carry a bat around with me."

"I know. But I just want you to start thinking about using the objects around you and if you have nothing around you…" he took her hand in his, touching her long fingers and tapping her nails. "Use these. Trisha will get over it."

Elizabeth smiled despite herself. "What else?"

"You could use some work on your punching skills."

"Yeah, I noticed. Should I get the gloves?"

"No, just use your fists."

"Okay. On what? The bag again?"

"No. On me."

Elizabeth blinked, surprised. "What?! Did you…?"

"Yes. Here," he said, raising his hand in front of himself, palm side flat. "Hit it."

"I don't want to hurt you. What if I do?" she said, concerned.

"That's good. It means you can protect yourself."

"Jason," she pleaded.

"You said you trusted me, right?"

"Yes."

"Then do it."

Elizabeth mustered some energy and courage and aimed for Jason's hand. She hit him dead centre and caused a loud smacking sound.

"Good. Again."

She did it again, harder this time.

"Again. Get angry."

Elizabeth pulled her hand back, her eyes blurring and slammed her fist into his palm.

"Better. Now do it again."

She hit him again and again and again, switching hands and moving around the room, following his movements until there was sweat dripping down her back and seeping into her eyes.

She'd felt the tears rolling down her face, but she didn't acknowledge them until this second. Embarrassed, she swiped at them with her sore fingers.

Jason shook out his hands and smiled down at her.

"Did I hurt you?" Elizabeth said, grabbing his hand and inspecting it.

He shook his head. "No. Are-are you okay?"

"I didn't think this would help… It did. I feel…"

"Alive?"

Her eyes sparkled.

"Yeah. Like I'm finally coming out of some horrible dream… How did you know that's what I needed?"

He shrugged. "It always helps me."

"I guess we're a lot alike then," she said, smiling. "Jason?"

"Yeah?"

"I hope-I hope you know how much this means to me. How much _you_ mean to me."

He took a small step forward and then another one when she didn't move or flinch away.

Claiming two more steps before she realized he was moving, he was already close enough to reach out his hand.

His fingers stopped shaking when they finally landed on her cheek, his thumb creating a pattern while it stroked over the soft skin.

She was watching it happen. Watching and feeling it and not minding it at all. In fact, she claimed a step. Just one. But it brought them just that much closer. So close she could feel his breath on her forehead, hot and uneven.

"J-Jason?" She didn't know what she was asking. Or why she'd said his name at all.

His mouth found hers, his lips warm and soft and not demanding. It was quick. Barely even a kiss, just a light breeze of one. Like a whisper from his skin to hers.

Jason stepped back. He looked apologetic, but not remorseful.

"Should I—should I not have done that?"

Elizabeth could barely make words form. She cleared her throat and concentrated. "No. No, I… I'm glad you're not afraid to."


	16. Chapter 16

Title: Remembering Tibet  
Author: Kat/Yuppiekat  
Rating: R  
Disclaimer: I don't own...well, anything pertaining to GH.  
Summary: This is an Alternate Universe fic. (And, possibly, a strange one at that.)-- The past haunts Jason and Elizabeth. In order to heal, they'll need each other.  
Notes: There are a few things that you should know about this fic... This fic was started (I believe) in 2002, but time constraints and frustration about the show stalled the writing of this fic. I am in the middle of re-reading and revising all the chapters. I'm not sure how often I can post. I wish I had more time to work on this, but you'll have to settle for a sporadic posting schedule. The character of Lucky is, well, very out of character. I'm aware of that. There is also a lot of head hopping in this fic... Um, sorry about that.

* * *

Courage was a quiet thing. Elizabeth had learned that from her mother.

Dragging herself out of bed that morning, she hadn't thought she'd end up in the holding room of the PCPD.

She'd gotten dressed, had a wonderful breakfast—French toast with powdered sugar and maple syrup, bacon on the side, orange juice _and_ hot chocolate—courtesy of Sonny, and headed out the door.

No one was force feeding her, but Sonny and most of the men in her life, including Johnny, Francis and Father Max—who'd just happened to stop by the last few mornings with doughnuts, bagels and croissants respectively—were making damn sure she ate.

It should have seemed overbearing, like she wasn't in control of her own life, like they didn't trust her to look after herself, but instead she found it endearing. They meant well, in their own way. It helped, having them around, getting used to their presence again. And how could she resent them for caring? She doubted her own father would have even noticed. She loved them for that. For _noticing_. For _seeing_ her.

So when she left the house, her belly full, she had every intention of going to the library to finally start on the art history paper that was due in less than a week. Halfway there though, she turned, went down Jefferson and headed straight for the Police station.

She'd been putting this off for too long. But she'd come to realize that if she wanted to get her life back, she'd have to do this first in order to move on. And that's what she wanted more than anything. To just…not forget, but to move forward, away from the dark thoughts that had been plaguing her and her dreams. There were others things she wanted out of life and dwelling wasn't solving anything.

The police officer she'd flagged down amongst the hustle and bustle of the busy station, ushered her into this room and told her a detective would be with her soon.

The room itself was stuffy. It smelled faintly of testosterone, sweat and ego. On the table there was a box of doughnuts, open and half-eaten, and the coffee in the carafe on the counter looked like a thick sludge. Such a cliché, she thought.

She'd been waiting 45 minutes, staring at linoleum tiles and counting the cracks in the ceiling, when the door flew open and a baby-faced officer shuffled into the room. Detective? Yeah, right. The kid looked like he was straight out of the police academy.

The Red Bull in his hand and iPod poking out of his pocket did little to add to his credibility. The uniform he wore was perfectly pressed and she had to wonder if his mommy had ironed it for him that morning.

Stopping herself from smiling when he finally looked up, she took a moment to study him. He was tall, dark haired, and under the veil of black lashes she could tell his eyes were light in color, most likely blue or green.

He looked nice enough, but she had to wonder which one out of the two of them was more nervous. He seemed to be having trouble looking her in the eye.

Setting down the Red Bull and folder that had been under his arm, he took the seat opposite of her. "I'm Cooper Barrett." He spared a glance at her. "I'll, uh, I'll be taking your statement."

"Okay. But shouldn't you be playing in the sandbox with all the other little boys?" She couldn't resist the dig.

"What?" His eyes still didn't reach hers. Confusion was clearly written on his face.

Officer Barrett's Adam's apple bobbed in his throat when he swallowed and she watched it with sickening fascination.

Her fingers fidgeted with the zipper on her jacket underneath the table. She'd taken it off after ten minutes in the claustrophobic space and placed it over her lap. "It's just… You're so young. I wasn't expecting…"

"A rookie?" There was no malice behind his words, just acceptance, like he'd heard this all before.

This was going to be harder than she thought. It would have been difficult enough to bare her soul to an overweight, underpaid middle-aged detective, but now she was going to have to relive and relay one of the worst nights of her life to this…boy.

And that wasn't being fair to him. He was probably a very good officer. But he_ was _young. Only a few years older than herself, she guessed. Maybe his age wouldn't have bothered her as much, had it not been for the unfortunate fact that Office Cooper Barrett was…well, for lack of better words, hot. She was sure he was just the type of guy Trisha would melt over.

And that was going to make things more difficult. Because how was she supposed to tell this young, good-looking cop about the trauma she suffered under the hands of Paul Callahan and maintain her dignity when he wouldn't even look her in the eye because of what he'd read in his precious little folder.

Under normal circumstances—though God knows, she didn't even know what that meant—she and Cooper might have been acquaintances, or friends, or dating!

But he didn't see her as a person—someone with feelings and emotions and likes and dislikes. All he saw was a girl that was brutally attacked. All he saw was some stupid little victim. That did not sit well with Elizabeth.

Cooper took advantage of her silence. "It's okay. I get it all the time. But let me assure you, this isn't the first statement I've taken."

"No. That's not what I meant. I just… Look, I don't want your pity." It wasn't hard to miss the anger in her tone.

He shook his head. "Pity? I-I don't pity you, Miss Webber."

She rolled her eyes. "Right. It would help if you looked me in the eye when you said that, _Officer_."

A blush formed on his cheeks, spreading until even the very tips of his ears were scarlet.

He did look at her then.

His eyes bore into hers until she felt unsettled.

"What?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm sorry," he said, taking a deep breath. "It's not you. Well, it is. But not in the way you're thinking. I-I didn't want to become distracted."

"I don't understand."

He bowed his head, breaking eye contact. "You're a beautiful woman, Miss Webber."

Her mouth hung open in shock. Of all the things she expected him to say, telling her she was beautiful was not one of them.

Cooper rushed on. "And I know that's not an appropriate thing to say…especially when the crime you're here to report involves someone trying to…" He shook his head. "I don't want you thinking… I'm sorry about what happened to you, but I don't pity you."

"Oh."

Officer Barrett cleared his throat. "So, uh, now that that's out there… Would you, um… Should I get someone else to take your statement? If I've made you uncomfortable…"

Elizabeth debated. Sure, it might be easier to have someone else take her statement. Someone more like she'd originally pictured. Or heck, even a woman if the department had any. That wasn't the solution, though.

Oddly, Cooper's confession had somehow put her more at ease. Not because she was flattered or was hoping some grand romance would blossom out of this. But by telling her the truth, however unprofessional, he'd cut himself wide open, humanized himself. There were on level playing field.

They were both exposed now.

She sighed. "No. No, that won't be necessary."

He still seemed hesitant, unsure. "Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee? Tea?"

"No. I'm fine, thanks." She settled back into her chair.

"Okay. Let's just get started then." Cooper pulled out a pen from his shirt pocket and flipped over the folder, exposing the files inside. He gave it a quick scan before settling his pen against the paper, ready to jot down notes. "Can you tell me what happened the night of December the 24th?"

Elizabeth took a breath in through her nose and released it with a slight whistle out of her mouth. "I was walking home from a Christmas party. I was a little upset so I decided to take a shortcut through the park. I-I know that was stupid, but I wasn't thinking clearly."

She watched the pen glide over the paper in slick, clean strokes.

"Okay and then what happened?"

Elizabeth blinked. She was a little unsettled by the detachment she heard in his voice. She wished she could be that detached, that emotionless about what had happened to her. But that was the difference between them. Cooper Barrett hadn't been the one that was brutally raped—_almost_ raped, she reminded herself--in the snow on Christmas Eve. She was.

"I, um… There was this guy, Paul. Paul Callahan. I knew him from school. We-we dated once or twice," she said, unable to hide the distain from her voice. "Anyway, he was waiting for me. He said as much. We ran into each other before I got to the party and exchanged words… I wasn't very nice to him."

"Okay. So he approached you…?"

She took a deep breath. In her head, she was right there, stuck, her legs wobbling and her heart pounding. She could sense it all again. That calculated look in his eyes. The smell of alcohol on his breath. The fear clenching her stomach.

"Miss Webber?"

"Yeah, sorry." Elizabeth nodded. "Yeah. I turned and he was standing there, blocking my way. He, uh… He said that I shouldn't become a nun, that it was a bad idea because… well then, he just made some references to my body."

Cooper's pen stopped moving. He looked up. "I'm sorry I'm going to need to know_ exactly_ what he said to the best of your memory."

"Right. Okay. Um…" Elizabeth had been afraid of that. She chewed on her lip. "He said something about my lips and body and that the nuns wouldn't appreciate it like he would. That we could…_do_ things together… He said we were going to have _fun._ I had to force myself not to throw up… That came later," she said, absently.

She felt the tears prick her eyes. God, it was like it was happening all over again.

"Do you need a break, Miss Webber?"

She shook her head, pulling her jacket over the front of her body, like it was a blanket or a shield. "No. No, I'm fine. I just want to get through this and put it all behind me."

"Okay. So what happened next?" His voice had dropped to a calm and soothing tone.

It gave her some strength.

"He-he grabbed my wrist and pulled me against him. Then he kissed me and I struggled, but I wasn't strong enough. My lip was bleeding… I don't remember how that happened; I just remember the taste," she whispered, sliding her tongue over her lip as if she could still feel the broken skin and the coppery tang of her blood. "We fell to the ground. I told him _no._ He said it would only be worse if I fought him. He started hitting me and-and pulling at my clothes, tearing them. I got away for a second, but he grabbed me. We fought some more and then I fell down the hill. I think I hit my head on a rock. I was just so tired." She closed her eyes, fighting the memories of that night. Trying to bury the way her skin felt on the snowy ground, bruised and dirty and so cold.

Cooper swallowed audibly. "And that's when Jason Morgan found you?"

A tear slipped down her cheek. She swiped at it. "Yes. He-he saved my life. I don't remember much after that."

He nodded. "Thank you, Miss Webber. You did very well."

He smiled at her, but she couldn't match it.

"Can I go now?"

Closing the folder, he met her eyes. There was regret etched there. "We just need… Are you up to looking at some mug shots? It's just procedure. Even though you named your attacker… We really want to put this guy away."

"Okay."

Anything to put Paul away. This wasn't going to happen to anyone else. Not this time. She'd done everything wrong the last time. In fact, she hadn't done anything at all. Except bury it deep inside her.

"You're a very brave woman, Miss Webber." He stood and reached for the door, wrenching it open. "Wait here and I'll be back."

Elizabeth allowed herself a moment to let the tears fall. Jason had called her brave, too. But he was the brave one. He was the man that had saved her from something that surely would have killed her. She wouldn't have survived it a second time.

She waited, motionless. Inside she felt wrecked. Busted up and bruised and emotionally drained.

The walls were caving in on her. The minutes ticked by and she felt like she was in a trance. She could hear the noise outside in the squad room. It was ripe with activity.

Everything in this room was still and lifeless. A dead silence that wrapped around her throat and choked back her voice. The world seemed to swell out of focus.

"Miss Webber?"

"Huh?" She looked up, meeting the kind blue eyes of Officer Barrett. She hadn't even heard him come in. She wondered how long he'd been standing there.

Cooper shifted on his feet. "If you're not up for this…"

Finally oriented by the sound of his voice, the rumble of words bombarding her, Elizabeth titled her head, looking at the overwhelming faded black book. New resolve thrust her back from the edge. "No. I can do this."

"Here's the book." He carried it with both hands and placed it in front of her. "Take your time."

He left her then. In the stagnant room with that ominous black book sitting on the table, taunting her.

* * *

Elizabeth felt mentally exhausted. The smell of the police station permeated her clothes and soured her tongue.

It had always been her intention to take the day to catch up on all the homework and reading she'd missed. But the day had not been going as planned. Not that she was shocked. Plans never seemed to be kept by her.

Scatterbrained, her Gram called her. Elizabeth had always taken her criticisms in stride. There was too much to see and too much to do to ever follow a plan. Life was not made for plans. If only Gram could see that. But the second she had stepped foot in Port Charles, she had realized that plans and schedules and propriety were key factors in winning her grandmother's love and respect. She wasn't sure she'd earned either. Oh sure, Gram loved her, but she never talked about her in that almost affectionate way she spoke of Steven or in that adoring way she spoke of her late husband. In fact, most of the time she felt like a failure in her grandmother's eyes.

It hadn't taken long for Audrey to realize that her granddaughter was not easily tamed. No amount of etiquette classes could iron out the free spirit embedded in her heart.

And when Elizabeth chose to study art in college? Well, any notions of continuing on in the family business died and Audrey, unable to hide her disappointment, told Elizabeth that she didn't approve and never would. It hurt her to watch the last of her hope drain out of her eyes and to be reminded once again that she would never have the support of those closest to her.

Plans and responsibilities, however, were two different things. She had never been one to shirk her responsibilities. That was the exact reason why she found herself turning the opposite way down Jefferson and back toward the library. There was research to be done and papers to be written.

The library seemed like a tomb, cramped and claustrophobic, full of old air and musty books. Bound volumes of history encompassed each rusting metal shelf, littered every overstuffed and stained couch, scuffed armchairs and wooden cubbies, adding to the already oppressive space. The colors were dull, moss greens, hopeless blues and muted reds. Five minutes inside and she felt like she couldn't take one clean breath. Like the joy had been sucked right out of the place.

Spending the afternoon in that environment did not appeal to Elizabeth. Instead, she high-tailed it out of there and let her feet do the thinking. She ended up at the farmer's market. It was vibrant and bursting with energy. Everything about the place captured her. The people were from all different ethnic backgrounds, arguing in all kinds of languages, selling familiar and exotic foods alike. She'd wished she'd brought a sketch book when she passed a kiosk full of fresh vegetables: yellow squash, imperfectly shaped green peppers, purple eggplants and her favorite, peaches imported from California, so ripe they split open, out of their skin, the moment she bit into one. If only she could capture the way they tasted on her tongue, or how it felt when she palmed an artichoke.

She bought flowers from one of the vendors and a soft salty pretzel. She ate it while she walked around, comforted by the activity and open fresh air. Besides the peach, she didn't purchase any vegetables though. Sonny would have considered it a betrayal. Just the thought of his face if she'd shown up with bicolor sweet corn or baby red potatoes, caused Elizabeth to laugh.

Before she left she played with the crateful of kittens a woman was selling at the doors by the East exit. They were small and soft and strong.

And so was she.

She just had to prove it to Jason.

It was days ago that Jason had kissed her. Part of her lived in anticipation for when it would happen again. The other part was terrified it never would.

They'd shared company since then, but nothing had happened. Well, things had happened. They'd had lunch together and he'd passed her the pepper shaker. Last night he'd carried her laundry basket for her when she nearly toppled down the stairs trying to carry it herself. And when she'd "accidentally" grazed his hand and bumped his hip with her own, while they did the supper dishes two nights ago, he'd shrugged it off and accepted her very lame apology. So things _had_ happened, but nothing in the romantic sense.

He'd been more than the perfect gentleman.

And that was really starting to irritate her.

Trisha had told her to give it time and to let things happen naturally and most importantly not to rush. And while that was good advice, practical and considerate, Elizabeth wondered when Trisha had gotten so wise.

Elizabeth trudged through the slushy streets and wondered when and how life had become so complicated.

It was late afternoon by the time she finally made it back to the house. Jason was sitting on the stairs outside, despite the cold, waiting.

She approached him. "H-Hi." She'd wanted to sound casual, but the hitch in her voice gave her away.

"Hey. You left early this morning."

His words were light, but she knew what he wasn't saying. Today had been the first day she had ventured beyond the confines of the monastery since coming to stay here. What he really wanted to know, but wouldn't ask, was where she had been and why she hadn't told him where she was going. But he wouldn't say anything because he didn't want her to feel pressured…or that he even had a right to know. She decided to take pity on him.

"Yeah." Sitting down next to him, she placed the flowers, wrapped in simple brown paper, on the stair in front of her, right by Jason's feet. "I had some things to do." She tilted her head, watching him, trying to gage his reaction. But he wasn't looking at her. His eyes were focused straight ahead. "I, um, I went to the police station today. I gave my statement."

_That_ got a reaction.

His head whipped around to look at her. "Alone?"

The shock in his voice didn't surprise her. It was a fact that she'd lost some of her spunk and going to the police station, let alone by herself, was a huge step. Catching him off-guard hadn't been her intention, but she did feel a slight sense of satisfaction knowing she hadn't become entirely predictable. Her smile was small. "Yeah."

"I-I would have gone with you." He was looking at her so intensely she had to look away.

She shrugged. "I know, but it was something I needed to do on my own."

"How did it go?"

She chuckled. "Well, at first, not so well. They sent in this rookie cop, Officer Barrett, and I kind of told him off a little."

"You told him off?"

She heard the confusion in his voice but didn't turn to look at him. He hadn't taken his eyes off of her and her face felt hot under his inspection. "Yeah, but only a little."

"Why?"

She shook her head. "I thought he pitied me, but when he explained that he didn't and was just trying to keep it professional, it got better. God, I can't believe I made him tell me I was beautiful! I felt like _such_ an idiot!"

"Wait, what?"

This time she did look at him. "Never mind. It's not important."

"He hit on you?"

"What?!" Was that jealousy tingeing his voice? No, it couldn't be. Jason didn't seem the jealous type. She wanted to laugh. It felt good. "No. Jason, no. It was a misunderstanding."

Clearly her answer hadn't satiated him, but he seemed to let it go.

"Oh-kay. So, after the _misunderstanding_, how did it go?"

"It was hard. I gave my statement. I tried to separate myself from it, but it was impossible."

From the corner of her eye, Elizabeth watched his hand lift from his thigh. She thought for sure it was going to land on hers, but after a moment of hovering he dropped it down onto his own lap.

_Ugh_! She wanted to scream! Why was he being so distant? What the hell was going on? She wanted to ask him, but his next words stopped her.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"Me, too."

They were both silent. Elizabeth hated this. They had been moving forward. A few days ago they'd even kissed. But there was still something holding Jason back.

Had she sabotaged all that forward progress by coming to him with her problems? No wonder he didn't want to touch her, she just had to keep reminding him of all the ways she was broken inside.

When the silence started to stifle her, she tried to lighten the mood. "I looked at mug shots and let me tell you, some of those guys have horrible haircuts. We're talking mullets galore!"

He nudged her with his shoulder. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Hide how you're really feeling."

At that moment Elizabeth felt something inside her mend--a tiny stitch that pulled a small piece of her soul back together. Just the fact that Jason knew her well enough to know when she was pretending made tears collect in her eyes.

"It's not pretty." She bit her lip.

"I know. Tell me." His hand reached out and this time he did touch her, softly caressing her with smooth, fluid motions up and down her back.

She remembered all the black and white faces staring back at her, their eyes void of any human emotion. It had sent chills up her spine.

Blinking rapidly, she tried to get control of herself. The heat of his hand gave her strength. Releasing her lip, she blew out a breath, sniffling, and desperately trying to wipe away her tears. "I felt like…like I couldn't breathe. And when I looked at all those pictures and imagined how many other people something like this had happened to… How can so many men do such awful things, Jason?"

His eyes were hard. "That's just it. They're not men."

She nodded. "I'm sorry I yelled at you for calling the police. You were right; it was the right thing to do. I pointed him out. The mug shot… It must have been taken_ that_ night. He--Paul… His face was pretty busted up."

Jason bowed his head.

Most of that night had been a blur after she tumbled down the hill and hit her head, but she remembered Jason's strong arms holding her, his voice, saying her name for the first time, how beautiful it sounded. Distantly, in a haze, she heard the scuffle, but it wasn't until she saw Paul's mug shot that she realized the fury Jason had unleashed. Violence like that should have scared her, but she didn't feel afraid or even sorry for Paul. She couldn't put how she felt into words. It only served to reaffirm her faith and trust in Jason.

Elizabeth wanted to wrap her arms around him and never let him go again. Instead, she settled for reaching out and touching his cheek. "Thank you."

His hand covered hers. "I'm just sorry I couldn't get there sooner."

She smiled, sliding her thumb along his jaw line. "Don't be sorry, just say you're welcome."

The corner of his mouth hooked upwards. "You're welcome."

"Good," she said, taking a deep, cleansing breath. "Anyway, Jason, I'm just glad it's over with for now. I don't even want to think about it anymore. I just want to block it out, but it's almost like I need something…I don't know…louder."

"You want to go for a ride?"

"Like on your bike?"

His mouth curved into a full blown smirk. "Elizabeth? I know a hint when I hear one."

"Can we take the cliff road again?" Excitement curled around her like a vise at the prospect of taking the turns so fast she thought they would fall. She remembered the few times she'd been on the back of his bike. How the wind had whipped through her hair and the city sounds had rang through her ears and everything passed by them in a blur. She remembered the way her stomach clenched and how much she laughed and screamed. But mostly, she remembered the feel of Jason's strength beneath her fingers and how, for just a moment, nothing mattered.

"Whatever you want."

"Great, let's go!" Her hand dropped from his face, but she didn't let his go. She held tight and pulled him along behind her toward the garage, abandoning her flowers for adventure.

* * *

Elizabeth felt alive. Everything seemed so intense. Like the stars in the big black sky, so close she felt like she might actually be able to touch them. The air was cool against her skin, but she wasn't cold. Her adrenaline was pumping through her veins, heating up her blood. She felt free.

She didn't know how many hours they had been gone, but she felt like they could ride forever and it still wouldn't have been enough.

Jason had taken her for a long ride, twisting and turning up all the steep hills Port Charles had to offer and then took them beyond the city limits, setting a demanding pace up the country roads. They took streets and alleys Elizabeth had never been on and trails that weren't meant for cars, so narrow and steep, her stomach dropped every time they hit a new turn.

Eventually they found their way back to the monastery. They had stopped on the ridge overlooking Brenda's gravestone. Jason had taken her hand and led her down a different path, up an incline and past a clump of trees to a wide clearing, overlooking the city lights. They twinkled in the night air.

Shimmering blues, gold halos and flashy reds blanketed the urban space below. There were some houses that still had up their Christmas lights and they looked like candy beads. There was one tree far in the distance, covered in green bulbs. They blinked like fireflies.

It was beautiful.

"It's nice out here. So quiet and peaceful."

Jason nodded.

Elizabeth watched him and felt her heart skip. There were so many thoughts swirling around in her head. "Jason?"

His gaze was focused on the city and the lights. "Hmm?" he answered lazily.

She cleared her throat. She'd been waiting for a moment like this. A quiet moment they could use to reflect on their…whatever it was they shared. "There's something between us, isn't there? Something real. I'm not the only one that feels it, am I?"

Jason's features remained unchanged. He took a step back from the ledge and looked at the ground.

God, what was she thinking? She hadn't meant to be that forward.

His silence was killing her. "Jason?"

He turned to her, his eyes clean blue pools, open and pained. "I feel it."

The air seemed to be sucked out of her lungs. "So what—what are we going to do about it?"

"We're not going to rush into things."

Elizabeth wanted to roll her eyes. "What does that mean?"

God, what did it mean? It had all made sense when the possibility of them being together was still just a thought, but they'd been circling around each other, denying their feelings—and they were strong feelings—for so long, that it was just inevitable that they were going to explode.

He wanted her to understand.

He wanted to explain.

The truth might frighten her. There _was_ something very real between them, something palpable.

The other day in the gym when he'd barely brushed her lips with his own, something primal had woken up inside of him. He wanted Elizabeth in a way that he'd never experienced before. And he was terrified that if they kissed again, he wouldn't be able to stop. That it would consume him. That he would rush them into something combustible, so rigid and hot and all-consuming that they'd forget to take a moment to breath. And in the end, there would be nothing left but a thick trail of heartbreak when the dust settled.

He'd die before he let Elizabeth be hurt again.

"Elizabeth. It's been a long day, we should--"

"Nope. Nuh uh. Not gonna work this time, buddy. We're here and we're talking about this. I don't get it, Jason. If there's something between us and we both feel it, why can't we do something about it? My Gram always says you have to understand the problem before you can solve it. So help me understand."

Elizabeth knew what he was doing and she refused to allow it to happen. It was always like this with them. One of them was always retreating when things got a little uncomfortable.

Her eyes were large and searching.

Something in him, something male and primitive, wanted to pull her against his chest, touch the soft curls framing her face and breath in her scent while he held her desperately close and took her, claiming her in the way he'd been wanting to since he first laid eyes on her. But those large eyes were also full of trust.

She'd been hurt. Hurt in the worst way a woman ever could. And he didn't want to remind her of that. He never wanted her to hurt like that again. She wasn't over it, despite how strong he knew she was. It took more than a few weeks to forget. When they were finally together he didn't want any part of her to be unsure. There would be nothing between them, especially not memories of the broken past and fractured portraits of a reckless youth. Those were demons she had to face and dismantle first.

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. This wasn't easy. Elizabeth never let anything go without a fight. He admired that about her. But right now he just wanted to get her home before she persuaded him, in that soft subtle way of hers, to give in and let this happen. "We're not ready, Elizabeth."

"Oh, trust me, I'm ready." Quiet resolve glinted in her eyes.

"Well then, I'm not." He began to walk back toward the bike.

He could hear her hurried steps trying to keep up with his, but he refused to turn around or slow down.

"Okay, I can accept that," she declared, diplomatically, tailing him. "Do you… Will you ever be ready? I mean, I'm not just setting myself up here to be royally screwed over am I? Because the other day you seemed ready. You know, when you kissed me," she reminded him. She was glad his back was to her. She wasn't sure she could have continued had she been looking him in the eye. In fact, she was almost positive she wouldn't have if the warm sensation in her cheeks was any indication. Why stop now? "Granted, it wasn't some mind-blowing, all-encompassing, soul-searching, passionate kiss like on Christmas Eve, but it still got my temperature rising. God, even the slightest touch from you gets me going, though!"

Jason stumbled. Her honesty humbled him.

Stopping, he turned around and started walking back toward her.

She folded her arms across her chest, shaking her head. "I, uh, I probably shouldn't have admitted all of that."

Jason opened his mouth to speak, but the words got lodged in his throat while he watched a pretty pink blush deepen and settle over her cheeks and travel down her neck.

She took a step forward bringing them intimately close. "Look, I'm not asking you to ravish me right here out in the forest or anything. I just want to know. Am I wrong to be feeling what I am? Do you not…?"

His touch stopped her words.

She felt her blood race. It made a whooshing sound in her ears.

His eyes were intense. A blue so charged she knew she'd never find the right combination of paint to equal it. "Jason?"

The only answer she received was the gentle skim of his rough hand down her cheek.

_Jesus. _She felt something spike inside her, a deep want that edged closer to oblivion the longer his fingers trailed down her skin.

Mimicking him, her hand tentatively brushed his cheek.

He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch.

"Jason." Her voice came out as a whisper. She hadn't meant to speak.

His head dipped in answer, capturing her eyes, staring into her soul.

Breathing seemed impossible.

"You, uh… When you touch me…" Struggling to get out the right words, he sighed, resting his forehead against hers.

Her breath was rapid and uneven against his ear.

He pulled back. He had to. "It-It's mutual."

The admission surprised her. "Really?"

"Yeah," he said, swallowing hard.

She smiled wickedly. "Well, that's good to know. So then what's the problem?"

"You've been hurt," he answered, simply.

"Yeah, but--"

"I just don't want to cause you any more pain." He didn't want her to make the same mistakes she had when she was fifteen. He didn't want to be the guy that took advantage of her vulnerable state. Things were different now. Before when he'd kept his distance, it was for her protection, and this was too, but not in the same way.

To build something lasting with her, he knew he'd have to put his willpower to the test, because Elizabeth Webber was the most tempting woman he'd ever met. And he never wanted to take her for granted.

The last thing Jason could ever do was cause her pain, but she knew this was important to him. If they were going to make this work, she had to let him set the pace. Even if that meant they were going to be moving toward each other at a sluggishly slow rate. At least they weren't dancing around each other any more. It was progress. "So we'll take things slowly if that's what you want."

Jason's eyes met hers and held her suspended. "That's what I need."

"Okay."

* * *

Elizabeth closed her eyes, falling into a state of semi-sleep. The day had been hard on her. Between her afternoon at the police station, her exciting bike ride with Jason and then their somewhat disappointing ride back, she was all set to fall into dreamland and forget. But that was proving more difficult than any other night in this big house so far.

There were noises all around her, penetrating her sleep, making her shift and turn over. In the distance, not too far away, she could hear the cry of an owl. Outside the window she imagined the bird perched on a tall barren oak, caked with snow and ice, hooting its warning notes. What was it trying to say?

Rising onto her forearms, she scanned the dark room. Her eyes fixated on the window. She really hoped it was locked. The last thing she needed was a swarm of birds trying to descend upon her and scratch out her eyes. She'd seen that Alfred Hitchcock movie. Hey, it _could_ happen.

Throwing herself back against the mattress, she again closed her eyes and waited. Outside she could hear the wind howling and that damn owl hooting.

Her eyes opened and closed. All she wanted was a few solid hours of rest. She took to watching the alarm clock by her bedside. Every time she looked, thinking hours had passed, she was annoyed that only a few minutes had actually ticked by from the last time she'd checked. The numbers began to blur and her eyes felt abnormally sore and heavy. Before long she wasn't sure if she was dreaming or awake.

The moon gleamed through the open drapes and it smiled a warped, twisted smile at her. She closed her eyes to try to block it out, but it was beckoning her from her place in the center of the large bed. She felt so small, so helpless.

The sweat had soaked through her clothes and made her feel sticky and hot. She tossed and turned. Reciting long-forgotten prayers over and over in her head until the words collided together and nothing made sense.

"_She's a brat!"_

"_Jeff, stop!"_

"_No. We'll have the damn thing with or without her. You hear that, you little bastard?!"_

"_Stop it! You're scaring her!"_

"_Stop coddling her!"_

"_It's okay, honey. Go upstairs. It'll be fine."_

"_I'm so sick of this!" _

"_Mommy!"_

"_You see what you make me do?"_

"_Come on, Lizzie, you know you want it."_

"_No."_

"_Don't be a tease!"_

"_W-Where's my father?"_

"_Don't worry about it. He won't be able to hear us."_

"_I-I… I'm really tired, Tom. You-You should go."_

"_I don't think so. You've been tempting me for months. Don't be a prude now when I've come to collect."_

"_No, I…"_

"_Shh…"_

"_No!"_

"_I swear, Lizzie, the things we could do together…"_

"_What do you want?"_

"_I think you know what I want."_

Jolting up in bed, she shivered. She'd broken out into a cold sweat. Somehow during the night her blankets had found their way to the floor.

Nightmares. She'd had an intense predisposition towards them ever since she was a little girl. They always rocked her to the core. Especially after her mother died and there was no one there to check for monsters in her closet. She was too old for this—too old to believe in fables and things that were simply not there. Still, she couldn't stop shaking.

The room seemed impeccably dark and there were shadows on the wall. Sleep had not come easily to her lately. It was always fraught with weird images and disconnected sounds that jostled her back to the waking world, rattled and confused.

She knew why her dreams haunted her. Had tried to ignore it, but it was an impossible task.

No wonder Jason wanted to take things slowly. As much as she tried to trick herself that she was okay, she knew that she still needed some time. Rushing into things would have been a huge mistake.

Doubts plagued her. But…

The best sleep she'd had since being attacked was New Years Eve when she'd fallen asleep against Jason's side. That couldn't have been a coincidence.

She eased her way out of bed and stalked over to the antique dresser, opening the bottom drawer. Pulling her shirt off, she grappled around in the dark for a clean one. Feeling the soft, worn cotton of her favorite t-shirt—a Port Charles Woodchucks baseball jersey she'd stolen from Lucky, who'd still had it from little league—she slipped it on. Pulling off her flannel pajama bottoms, Elizabeth chucked them in the general direction of her laundry hamper. Pulling out the first thing her fingers came into contact with—a pair of pink and white checkered boxer shorts—she slipped them on without a second thought.

Elizabeth stepped cautiously to the door and hesitated. The floor was cold and a chill ran up her spine breaking her skin out in goose bumps.

Turning on the light, she surveyed the room. Her eyes landed longingly at her art supplies. Painting all night might help, but she still hadn't managed to unpack the boxes with all her supplies. Hell, her spare easel had a coat of dust on top, undisturbed, because she certainly hadn't touched it since she'd been here. She had barely looked at the thing. Something was holding her back. Something she couldn't yet name and didn't want to think about.

The room itself was total chaos. Her clothes were strewn all about, a stack of folded laundry sat on top of the dresser, untouched. It hadn't been put away from the last time she and Jason had done laundry together and that was a few days ago. It was nice having a washing machine at the house with a dryer that worked. She hadn't had to schlep her dirty clothes across town to the laundry mat in weeks.

Her school bag and papers were in disarray. Assignment sheets and marked tests blanketed the floor in a spiral, almost creating a mosaic.

Cleaning up might calm her. But she already knew what she needed and what she was going to do before she had even considered any other possibilities. The mere illusion that she was going to do anything else was just a stall tactic.

She shouldn't go to him. It wasn't fair. Part of her wished she could be strong enough to deal with this on her own. The other part needed him in a way she was only just starting to realize.

Twisting the handle, she made up her mind and walked down the narrow hallway to Jason's room. There was still a faint yellow light spilling out under his door.

She pushed tentatively on the old wooden door and it creaked open.

Jason looked up, startled. He was in bed, bare-chested and reading a book.

His eyes immediately connected with hers. "Elizabeth?"

She wasn't expecting this—Jason in his bedroom, relaxed and…half-naked. Her eyes swept over him. The soft lighting highlighted his sculpted abs, broad chest and impeccably muscled biceps and forearms. His hair was more disheveled than normal and it made him look utterly sexy.

She bit her lip. "Jason."

"What's wrong?" He was on alert. His back straightened and his muscles tensed. There was something wrong. He could feel it bouncing off of her. All she had to do was tell him and he'd try to make it better.

She could see he was worried and tried to ease his fears. Elizabeth offered a small smile.

The tension slowly drained out of him. Whatever it was that was wrong, it wasn't causing her direct harm, but he could see the faint shadows of something lingering in her eyes. He set the book he'd been reading on the small table near his bed and gave her his full attention.

"I couldn't sleep," she said quietly, digging her bare toes into the carpet nervously. "My room… The guest room, I mean. It's just a strange feeling trying to sleep in an unfamiliar place. I was thinking…"

"You were thinking…?"

She swallowed her pride. "That maybe if… well, if you just, sort of, sat with me for a little while, that I might--"

"Okay." Jason wasn't an idiot. He'd noticed the dark circles under her eyes. How she yawned through breakfast and dinner. Frankly, he was surprised he hadn't intervened sooner. But he knew Elizabeth. How strong and independent she was. It had to be her choice. He couldn't inflict his help on her when she wasn't ready to ask. Apparently, now she was ready. Relief coursed through his veins.

"Okay? Just like that?"

"Just like that." Flipping the covers off his long legs, Jason stood to his full height and ambled over to her.

Elizabeth had to look up to see into his eyes. And when she did her breath caught in her throat.

The scent of him, raw and pure male, was hard to ignore when he stood beside her, reaching to grab his jeans from the floor. She tried not to notice that he was only wearing a pair of boxer briefs and that he filled them well, leaving little to the imagination. The battle was easily lost.

When he slid the jeans up his legs, leaving them unbuttoned and moved past her, she realized he wasn't going to cover up his torso.

"Maybe you should… Could you put on a shirt?" No sense sugarcoating it. Jason was beautiful and she wasn't quite prepared for the feelings he was stirring up inside her.

He bowed his head. "Sorry. I-I wasn't thinking… I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

She wished he wouldn't do that. Assume he knew what she was thinking. Yes, she was uncomfortable, but not in the way he thought. Because the way he looked without a shirt was certainly not going to help her with not rushing into anything. Licking every available inch of toned and tan skin might have breached that very tentative line.

Ah, hell.

Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. "You don't. It's just… It's kind of hard not to rush into things, go slowly or whatever you want to call it, with you looking the way you do."

Jason blushed in response, feeling embarrassed and desired. He hastily pulled his shirt over his head.

Allowing Elizabeth to exit in front of him, Jason followed closely behind, his brain unable to stop his eyes from taking a quick perusal of her attire. A t-shirt and shorts was not something that should turn him on, but watching Elizabeth's petite figure and jolting steps, no doubt from the icy wood floors, Jason could easily say that he'd never seen anything sexier.

His hand hovered just above her tailbone, occasionally resting on the delicate curve of her spine a second or two before he took it away.

She could feel the heat of his palm soaking into her skin and warming her up from the inside out. If he didn't want to rush into anything than he better keep his hands to himself because one more accidental bump of his hip or caress of his long fingers and Elizabeth was going to press him against the nearest wall and kiss him until his very stringent control snapped.

"You haven't been sleeping well this whole time?" he questioned while he ushered her the last few feet down the chilly hallway and back into her own room.

She shrugged. "No, I guess not."

Once they made it inside, Elizabeth immediately hopped onto the bed and sank into the mattress, pulling up her blankets from the floor.

Jason hesitated by the door. He checked the hallway once before pulling it shut. "You want the light off or on?"

"Off."

Jason reached for the light switch and flipped it off.

Elizabeth waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She could still hear that old owl outside the window cooing a warbled song. She shuddered and turned her head. The moon was taunting her with that maniacal smile. "The drapes, too. Please?"

Jason nodded. He walked to the other side of the room. Drawing the drapes closed, he felt the cold radiating off the glass. For the first time he noticed the overall draftiness of the room. Making a mental note to take care of that sometime the next day, Jason took a tentative step toward the bed. Elizabeth looked so small wrapped up in her blankets, scooted on her side of the bed, leaving a very obvious spot for him to fill.

Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. Now the room was nearly black and the moon seemed very far away. She was feeling brave under the mask of night. Pushing the covers to the side, she patted the bed beside her.

Jason cursed in his head. Though it was beyond dark in the room, her creamy thigh was still visible to his hungry eyes. Pink boxer shorts were just not appropriate for this kind of weather, especially in this chilly room and especially when it left so much skin for his eyes to caress.

He hesitated, but only for a second.

The mattress dipped and something wound tight in her stomach.

She looked at him in the dark, his face barely visible and just a few inches from hers. Even in the darkness, she could tell he was looking at her. Their eyes met and held.

He wanted to reach out and touch her, but he fisted his hands at his sides instead and looked away.

Jason cleared his throat. His voice came out hoarse, almost husky. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She shook her head. "No, not really. I just… I had a nightmare. But, really, it was nothing."

He didn't believe her. He'd seen that look in her eyes before. It was that day Edward had made an unexpected visit and Sonny flew off the handle--as he was wont to do every time Edward was around. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm okay. Now." She wasn't so afraid with Jason lying next to her.

They were both quiet for a minute.

Elizabeth broke the silence. "When I came into your room, I noticed you were reading. What was it you were reading?"

"A travel book."

She smiled. "Really? For where?"

"Italy."

Italy. How she'd longed to see Italy. Some time ago--she couldn't recall the exact date--it had become an obsession. Many a daydream had been spent thinking of Italy. Rome alone hosted several sites she was interested in: the Sistine Chapel, St. Peter's Basilica, Fontona di Trevi, not to mention the Colosseum. And then there was Venice and Florence, Naples, Milan and Siena… The list went on and on.

"Oh, I would love to go to Italy. The art, the architecture… There's so much to see there. Some of the most famous artists were born in Italy--" She stopped, realizing she'd been rambling. She looked at Jason. He didn't seem to mind, so she continued. "You know, my grandfather told me that the light in Italy is different than any other place in the world. Do you think that's true?"

Jason shrugged, leaning back against the headboard. "Probably. It looks like a beautiful place."

"You've never been?"

"No."

"Oh." Elizabeth couldn't hide her surprise. According to Sonny, Jason had traveled all over the world. Italy seemed like a reasonably place to visit. An obvious place. "I mean, I just assumed you'd been. You have the book and Sonny said you've traveled a lot."

Jason sighed. He wondered what else Sonny had told her. Not that he minded her knowing, but there were certain things he'd wanted to tell her himself. "I have, mostly to remote parts of the world."

"Oh," she said again, a little puzzled.

Jason watched her face, saw the worry lines marring her features. He didn't want to get into this. Not now. Not when it was so obvious something was on her mind. He didn't want to burden her with his peculiar childhood.

Traveling hadn't been a thing born of luxury, but out of necessity. There had been a stretch of time when he'd gone to bed in one place and woken up in another. His parents had still been alive then. He remembered it being a tense time in their lives. Happy, but tense.

After they died, he had six solid years of stability and a pseudo family before he was uprooted again. The sanctuary he'd found in Tibet had been breached. Everything had been destroyed. People had died. It was his fault.

The traveling began again, but this time he understood it. Didn't always like it, but he understood. Most of the time he was lonely. He met people, but everything was fleeting. It was hard to form attachments when he was staying in places for only a few months before moving on. It was years before his uncle finally sent for him, declaring it safe to return to the states. He was wrong.

But Jason was old enough to brave what his parents had so desperately tried to shield him from.

When Jason first arrived in America it was a huge culture shock. His classmates thought he was weird and the awkwardness that a teenager always seemed to possess was only magnified by Jason's strange upbringing. He didn't have many friends, but his uncle was as worthy a companion as anyone.

God, it hurt to even think about him. The man had taught Jason so much, had become a second father to him. And all Jason did in return was get him killed.

Even now, Jason wondered how things would have turned out if he had stayed abroad. His uncle would be alive. Whatever danger followed Jason would have been his alone to bear.

Jason scratched behind his ear. His eyes felt heavy.

Elizabeth was looking at him. Her hand was between both of their bodies, just barely brushing his knuckle.

"Jason?" Her voice was lower than a whisper. "Are you okay?"

He nodded without thinking.

"You sure? Because you just… You seem lost in thought. Should I not have asked what I did? Sonny only told me because you still weren't talking then and I had so many questions and frustrations where you were concerned. I don't anymore." She laughed softly. "Well, no, that's not true. I still do, but I can actually talk to _you_ about them now."

Jason smiled. He understood about being frustrated and questioning things. He wondered, even now, if he was doing the right thing. If comforting Elizabeth, in her bed, when he felt such attraction and affection toward her, was the right thing to be doing. He didn't have the answer for that. It seemed these days he didn't have the right answer for anything. There was so much between them that it made it hard to think rationally sometimes. He'd wanted to keep his distance from the first moment he saw her, but there was just something that wouldn't allow that to happen.

Thinking about his uncle was stirring up all kinds of doubts. The last thing he wanted was Elizabeth to be hurt because of him. All the signs were telling him to bail, but there was just something that kept him coming back for more. She was intoxicating. Like a drug. He wanted her safe and he didn't want to be selfish, but letting her go didn't even factor into his brain as a possibility anymore. He'd fought it for so long. He was so tired of keeping her at arms length.

But he knew, even while their eyes locked and his fingers stretched out to take her delicate hand in his, that if it came down to it, if he had to let her go to keep her safe, he would. Even if it killed him.

"It's okay," he said, reassuring her. "I talked about going with my Uncle once."

"To Italy?"

"Yes." His thumb stroked over the back of her hand, drawing lazy circles.

He felt her breath hitch. "Your Uncle? The same one that--"

"Yes."

"Sonny said you were very close to him. I know that when he…" She looked down at their entwined hands. "When he died you took a vow of silence and you told me your reasons why, but I'm still sorry I made you break it."

Jason squeezed her hand. "I'm not."

Her eyes lifted slowly to his. "Jason," she said, licking her lips. "Will you… Can you tell me what happened? I mean, how he--"

"It was an accident." He sighed. "At least, that's what we thought."

"But it wasn't?"

Jason shook his head. This was the very subject he'd wanted to avoid. The last thing he wanted to do was make her more afraid than she already was. "Elizabeth."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have--"

She tried to pull her hand out of his grasp, but he wouldn't allow it.

"It's fine. I just don't want to make this about me. Tonight you came to me and I want to help you. If you want to know I'll tell you but--"

"You don't have to explain. You'll tell me when you're ready. Or not. I shouldn't have pushed." Elizabeth sank heavily against her pillow, using the hand he wasn't holding to pull the blankets around her neck. Her head was parallel to the ceiling. Her eyes fluttered shut.

Jason watched the way she closed herself off, instinctually protecting herself, even physically retreating from him. He hadn't let go of her hand and she'd stopped fighting him, but it was limp and lifeless against his palm. No longer did he feel the gentle pressure of her fingers tangling with his, almost flirtatiously.

He couldn't blame her. He'd done it a million times himself. This was a pattern with them. One step forward, two steps back.

But she'd been so honest with him. About everything. She'd shared such deep, painful secrets with him. He couldn't deny her his.

Letting go of her hand, he pushed off of the headboard and shifted on the bed, bringing them closer. He reached out and brushed his thumb over the cleft in her chin, tilting her head until she was facing him. Her eyes remained closed, but he knew he had her attention.

Jason took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I wasn't there when it happened. I was across town. But when Sonny called…" He closed his eyes. He remembered that call. The hint of urgency in Sonny's tone. The whispered plea to hurry. But in the end, it was too late. It always had been. "He'd been fixing the roof. Trying to, at least… I was supposed to help him."

That afternoon Jason had felt unsettled. He couldn't place the strange feeling in his gut, but he had to get away. He'd taken the bike out for a long ride, despite his responsibilities. "The equipment--" He sighed. "It doesn't matter. Somehow he fell. By the time I got there, he was barely hanging on."

Regret wasn't even a word that came close to how it had felt when Jason arrived back at the monastery. There was blood. A lot of blood. His uncle's body had been lying where he initially fell, his limbs akimbo. There was a gash on his head. His right shoe was ten yards away. And his neck was broken.

Jason shuddered. "He-he died in my arms."

Elizabeth's eyes were open. "Jason."

Soft fingertips came to rest on his cheek, gently stroking a silent path.

"It was a long time ago."

"I'm sorry."

Jason reached for her hand, steering it away from his face and letting it rest against his chest. "Me, too. I should have been there."

Elizabeth's eyes were sorrowful in the darkness. He could see the moisture that had collected at the corners. "Do you think you could have prevented it?"

"I…I don't know. I think about it a lot."

"Me, too."

"What?"

She shook her head. "I mean, not about your uncle, obviously. My mother, she died when I was eight**, **almost nine. I always thought… I thought it was my fault somehow." She shrugged. "I know it's not the same…"

"What made you think that?"

A shadow passed her features. "It was my birthday. I didn't want a party."

Her words didn't make any sense. At least not to him. "I don't understand."

"See, my parents fought about it and… She was sick, Jason. I should have just had a stupid party." Her fingers gripped the cotton of his t-shirt, fisting it in her hand.

Jason swallowed. "Was it cancer?"

"No. No, nothing like that. My parents… They didn't have one of those fairytale marriages."

Her explanation veered off-topic. It served to only confuse him more. "I'm not—I'm not following."

Something flickered in her eyes. It was raw and painful.

Jason's chest constricted.

"Let's not talk about that right now," she said, attempting a smile that didn't compute.

Jason let her drop the subject. For now. He had a feeling that whatever path she had started down was one that had been left to fester. It might even have something to do with her nightmares.

Elizabeth squinted through the darkness. She watched Jason's face. It was obvious he wanted to talk more, but the images were still too fresh and the heartache too real.

Letting her fingers explore the expanse of Jason's chest, she traced patterns over the cotton of his t-shirt, concentrating on the left side where she could feel his heart beating rapidly.

Their talk this afternoon had been necessary. He didn't want them to rush into anything they weren't ready for, but laying next to her, smelling the soft scent of her perfume, watching the way her teeth dug into her bottom lip, Jason was mesmerized. God, she was beautiful. And the way she was so innocently touching him? The very masculine part inside himself growled.

Elizabeth continued to study his skin with her fingertips. They found their way to the nape of his neck. She played with the short, soft hairs there. Everything about him was hard and rough, but his hair was baby soft, especially right behind his ears. Jason shuddered when she hit a sensitive spot right below his ear. She bit back a smile and brushed it with the tip of her index finger, tracing upward until she reached the shell of his ear.

Jason's eyes fluttered shut. His breathing changed.

"Jason?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you talk to me? I know you're tired, but it helps to hear your voice."

"I'm not tired." Keeping his eyes closed, he lifted his hand to her cheek, let his fingers spread out over her skin, relishing in the softness.

"I thought you were falling asleep," she said, sheepishly.

"No, just relaxed." He sighed.

"Okay. But why do you have your eyes closed?" She traced that spot below his ear again. Elizabeth felt his body rumble next to hers.

His hand moved from her face to the back of her neck. He mimicked her gentle caresses and then moved on to her shoulder, kneading the knots out. Opening his eyes to slits, Jason challenged, "Because if I look at you, I'm going to kiss you and we promised to take this slowly."

"Oh!" The words had shocked her. They burned hot circles inside her belly. It wasn't just his words, though. Her body was tingling everywhere he'd touched her…and in places he definitely hadn't. She wondered if he was as affected.

The continuing silence was making her nervous. "So are you going to talk or what?"

Jason's lips twitched. "Sure. What should I say?"

"Tell me about your parents."

His fingers faltered for a moment, but then he recovered and began the same soothing rhythm over again. "There's not much to tell. I was six when they died."

"That's young. That's so young." She moved closer, feeling the heat coming off of him. She liked that about him. That he was always so warm. It made her feel especially safe. "Do you—do you remember them?"

"A little. Not everything. Small things." Opening his eyes fully, he looked down at her, surprised at their close proximity. He tugged her just a little bit closer until her head was just under his chin and he could smell the fresh scent of her shampoo. Was that apples?

"Like what?"

He took a deep breath. "Oh, I don't know… It's hard to think of something."

"Try?"

The hopeful lilt to her voice was his undoing.

He rolled onto his back and washed a hand over his face.

Elizabeth trailed him, pressing her palm to his chest again. Her head rested in the crook of his shoulder.

Talking about his parents wasn't something Jason did. There hadn't been a need for it, even with his uncle or Sonny. Elizabeth was the first person he'd let get close enough to ask. It was new territory.

"Um, my father read a lot. He always had lots and lots of books around. I remember sitting in his lap while he read to me. I don't remember what he read, though."

He took her hand in his again, studied the delicate lines of her veins and folds of her fingers. She had such small delicate hands, soft like silk and creamy-white like porcelain. It took him a while to realize he was even touching her and when he finally did notice he let her hand drop back onto his chest and covered it with his own.

Her smile was sincere. "I like that. It sounds nice. And your mom?"

"Apricots."

"What?"

He shook his head. "I just…I remember the smell of apricots. She loved them." Jason smiled. Talking about his parents had been cathartic, alarmingly so. Something clicked into place. "How about you?"

"She was beautiful, my mother," she replied, quietly. "I don't really…" she faltered.

Jason squeezed her shoulder, encouraging her to continue.

"I don't look like her, not that much," she said, brushing her hair behind her ear. "She had the bluest eyes. Everyone said so." Propping herself up on her forearm, Elizabeth looked directly at Jason. "They were—they were almost like yours, actually. But not—not so intense. Or maybe…maybe a different blue. I can't really remember."

She settled back down beside him, defeated. It was hard to remember anything specific about her features. Her father had taken down all the photos of her mother after she died and put them away where she couldn't find them.

She hated him for that.

"I miss her so much. For the longest time I wanted to go with her. Just to be with her. Even for only one minute," her voice was thick with tears. They pooled in her eyes but she refused to let them fall.

Jason watched her closely. Her eyes were mostly hidden under her dark lashes. He could clearly see the pain in them anyway. "What about your father? Is he still…?"

She laughed derisively. "Oh, he's alive. I-I don't really talk to him much. And when I do, it's one lecture after another. And my brother… My brother was a lot older, independent. He went away to college. But my mother…_she_ was my world."

"Tell me." Jason wondered when she'd talked about this last--or if she had at all. He hoped it was helping her the way it had him. Just those few words about his parents had restored something inside himself. He wanted that for Elizabeth.

Elizabeth spared a glance at Jason. His face was unreadable. "About my mother?"

"Yes."

Her eyebrows rose in skepticism. "Why?"

Pushing her hair behind her ear, Jason tilted his head, staring deep into her eyes so she wouldn't misinterpret what he was saying. "She's part of you and I…I want to know everything about you."

Sometimes Jason had a way of making her speechless. She wondered if he knew how much he made her ache. She'd never met anyone like him. She shook her head, laughing tersely. "Jason. You don't want to know_ everything_ about me."

"You don't get to decide that," he challenged, tapping her nose with his index finger.

"Some of it's pretty ugly. I've already told you things that I'm sure you didn't want to know and I've made you say things that I'm sure--"

"I wouldn't say them if I didn't want to," he said, gently.

"Fine. Where should I start? The end?" She nodded in answer to her own question. "That seems fitting."

Jason's hand spanned her back.

She sucked in a breath.

He began to move his fingers slowly and steadily over the column of her spine.

After a moment she relaxed into his touch. The soft pressure lulled her into a sense of security. "I remember the funeral. It rained. Ironic, huh?"

Jason smiled softly, sadly.

"I always thought so anyway. It's amazing the things you remember and the things you don't. My shoes got muddy--my old Chuck Taylors with the skeleton laces and ink stain on the tongue--and I made tracks of dirt all over the house. No one even yelled at me. No one," she said, dubiously. "It actually rained for days after she died. I would sit at my window and wait."

She remembered the large bay window in her bedroom--the window that never opened. There were times it had made her felt trapped. Sometimes, especially after her mother died, she wanted to throw her desk chair into it just to let in some air. It was large, nearly taking up her entire wall. It always let it lots of light, but when it was raining, her bedroom felt dark and claustrophobic.

"I don't know what I was waiting for. Maybe I thought she was coming home, or maybe I was waiting for the rain to stop." She sighed. "My father acted almost like nothing had happened. He went to work, ate, slept, and drank too much, same as before. He still didn't talk to me." She closed her eyes.

Jason increased the pressure on her back, massaging out the knots in her shoulders and neck, trying to comfort her.

"That feels nice," she whispered, relaxing even more against his touch. "I remember the wake. People came to our house and brought us food we never ate and said things I didn't seem to hear. When everyone left, I went to my parent's bedroom. I went to the closet, took out her robe and put it on. It went past my feet and dragged on the ground when I walked, but I didn't care. It smelled like her, a combination of lavender and baby powder. She always said she liked the smell of baby powder because it brought back memories and didn't make her feel so old. The thing was…she wasn't even thirty yet. I didn't think about that then. She must have felt so…" She trailed off, shaking her head.

Jason was working magic on her tense muscles. She was at ease and comforted, talking about things she hadn't said to anyone.

Fighting back a yawn, she continued, "I fell asleep on their bed and it became a habit, until my father locked the door and sealed the room. He'd been sleeping in the quest room anyway, so it didn't matter to him, but for me, it felt like a betrayal. I went through his coat pockets every night while he slept and I continued my ritual, until Rosa, my nanny, found me in there and had a long talk with me.

"Long story short, I lost my mother, had a father that didn't care about me and was raised by a kind woman who did the best she could. And then I came here to live with my grandmother when I was fifteen and out of control. She made sure I became a proper young lady. Or, at least, that I tried to be one. I never quite succeeded."

Jason had listened attentively. To the words she was saying and the things she was not. There was still something that didn't make sense to him. There was something she was leaving out.

Jason hadn't spoken in so long Elizabeth was starting to wonder if he had fallen asleep. So when he did speak, his voice startled her.

"You said she was sick."

She swallowed hard. He would dwell on that detail. "Not—not in a physical way."

"Then how?"

"Remember how I said my parent's marriage wasn't exactly ideal?"

"Yeah."

"Well, what I meant was… See, sometimes he drank and he'd get angry and things would just _escalate_." Elizabeth shuddered.

Jason understood what that meant. He just hoped he was wrong. "He-he hit her?"

She forced herself to stay in the moment. She didn't want to go back there. Back to that enormous house empty of compassion and kindness and love. "Sometimes. Sometimes he'd hit her so hard…" she said, her voice cracking. "He'd hit her so hard, I didn't think she'd ever get back up. But she always did, Jason. She always did. She was so strong."

There was a sick feeling twisting Jason's gut into knots. "How did she die, Elizabeth?"

"She-she took my father's gun and…" Elizabeth sat up, abruptly.

Jason's hand slipped from her back.

She felt like they were talking about someone else's life. It all seemed so distant and far away from who she was with and where she was, nestled in the safely of Jason's arms.

She shook her head, her eyes meeting Jason's.

Jason's heart was thumping wildly in his chest.

She took his hand, squeezing it hard. "She didn't know what she was doing, Jason. She couldn't have," she said, reflectively. "She was sick. I should have just had the party. Don't you see?"

Her fingers were shaking inside of his palm. "Elizabeth."

"They wouldn't have fought. If I'd just let him have the party…" she said, earnestly.

Slowly his other hand reached out and touched her cheek. "You were just a girl."

"I still knew. Even then, even when I was a child I knew."

"Knew what?"

"That she was the_ only_ one that ever cared about me."

"I'm sure that's not true. It's not possible," he whispered playing with a lock of hair between his fingers. He couldn't imagine anyone not loving Elizabeth.

She burrowed into him, buried her face against his chest and yawned sleepily. She slid back down onto the mattress pulling him down with her. "It's true. And I knew it, that's why I didn't want the damn party. It was his idea."

Elizabeth seemed convinced and that was enough for him. It might have been true then, but it wasn't now. There were so many people that cared about Elizabeth, people that would protect her with their lives. Suddenly, Jason had the urge to track down the remaining members of Elizabeth's family and beat them senseless. They had no idea. No idea what this slip of a girl was worth.

"My father didn't know I existed and when he did see me--" she stopped, strained in the darkness to see his eyes, feeling her heart flutter when she did. They were intense and sparkled a dark blue in the blackness of the room.

Jason let his fingers move out of her hair to mold against her cheek while his thumb strummed away the single tear she didn't know she'd shed. "What? Tell me."

She closed her eyes, blinked at the moisture she felt when she did. She didn't want to tell him. She didn't want anyone to know. "I can't."

"I'm here and you're safe now. Nothing can hurt you. You don't have to be afraid anymore, Elizabeth," he begged her to open to him, with his eyes, with the way his hand rested on the curve of her hip, lightly stroking, and with the soft way he said her name.

"Jason."

"Did," he started, then swallowed hard, "Did he hit you?"

He felt her tense, and felt her try to draw away, but he held onto her tighter.

She shook her head. "No. It wasn't like that. I barely spoke to him! I almost think it would have been better had he hit me. At least he would have noticed I was there."

His hand caressed her left wrist and something inside him roared. No. His fingers whispered over her wrist again until he was sure. There was no denying the very faint raised skin. He pulled up her sleeve, not letting her draw away. He knew what it was and had only God to thank that she hadn't succeeded. His finger traced the line over and over, wishing he could take away her pain. Absorb it himself if he had to. "Is this what you meant when you said you wanted to go with your mother?" His voice wasn't accusatory, just concerned.

"Don't!" she protested trying to pull her sleeve back down to hide the scar.

She was so ashamed.

The scar was barely an inch long, horizontal on her wrist. Hardly noticeable in the light, but it hadn't stopped her for years from wearing long sleeves to cover it up. In the dark, she doubted Jason could even see it without his sense of touch guiding him. It hadn't even been deep enough to bleed more than ten minutes before it clotted. She'd wussed out.

He kissed her temple softly and again touched her wrist with slow, gentle hands.

Her eyes met his. "I wanted to, Jason. I wanted to, but I couldn't do it."

She let him touch the raised ridge.

"Tell me about your father." He could feel her body shiver and so he hugged her closer to his chest. "Let me in."

Elizabeth took a deep breath. The last of her secrets, the last of the pain she'd clung to for so long, was slowly being pulled out of her. She'd held onto it for so long and she knew it was destroying her. But Jason wouldn't let it. "He knew and never did anything."

"Knew what?"

"He didn't do anything, Jason, and he knew!"

A bell went off in Jason's head. Instinctively he pulled her closer and wove his fingers through her hair, lightly stroking the top of her head. "Elizabeth."

"He _knew_, Jason. About…about the r-rape." Elizabeth's voice was barely above a whisper and there was no mistaking the quiver and pain in her statement.

No no no. How could anyone…? Her own father, no less, stand by and let someone get away with hurting her, with breaking her beautiful and wild spirit? Jason hurt for her more than he'd ever hurt for himself. It was a deep ache that soured his stomach. Everything went numb. She was in so much pain and all he wanted was to take it away. His lungs burned and he slowly released his breath.

"My father found out," she said.

Her voice had hardened, becoming a brittle cold sound that stung his ears.

She watched him to gauge his reaction, but his eyes remained trained on hers, unflinchingly calm.

"He said I deserved it; that I drove Tom to it with my short shorts and tank tops. He made it sound like it was my fault," she said softly, so very softly,

Jason felt his own eyes grow moist. "It wasn't."

She closed her eyes and let the tears slip out, unbidden. Despite all the years, she needed to hear that, to be reassured. "I know that now. In my head, I know that. But I was young, Jason. I believed him. He was my father and I…" Her eyes opened then, capturing his once again. The steely blue concern, flashy like a beacon, gave her the strength she needed. "He was the only parent I had left. I-I relied on him to tell me the truth, to do what's right. Isn't that what we're supposed to do? I wanted him to love me and I tried so hard to be a good girl but it was never enough. He said I was a tease and what did I expect? My own father said that, Jason!"

"Elizabeth," he soothed, kissing her forehead with all the gentleness befitting the woman in his arms. There was something so delicate about Elizabeth, but at the same time she was the strongest person he'd ever met. "It was _not_ your fault."

"Jason." She wanted to believe him. She did. But there were so many lies. Over the years there had been too many that she wasn't sure of the truth anymore.

"Listen to me. You're beautiful…smart and talented… You're so strong, Elizabeth. You did _nothing_ wrong."

"Jason, please don't. I'm… I shouldn't have told you. It was_ my_ burden to bear. It wasn't fair of me... And now…" She didn't want to think about it. Everything hurt. "He shipped me off here because he couldn't look at me anymore and now you won't be able to either."

"Elizabeth, please. Stop talking like that!"

Oh, God, what had she done? She was stripped bare. There were no secrets left, nothing to protect herself with. He knew her now, inside and out. And she loved him. She loved him like she never thought she was capable of loving another human being. She'd thought, stupidly, that her heart would never be able to mend. But it had. Her heart had expanded and filled with pieces of Jason. Nothing had ever frightened her more. "You're going to leave me now, aren't you? That's what everyone does. And I don't blame you. I don't."

Jason sat up in bed, taking her with him so he could really make her hear him. "Elizabeth, I would never--"

"Do you think I'm crazy like her? Do you think--"

"No!" His grip on her shoulders increased. "You wouldn't do that."

"I tried," she said, brokenly.

"You couldn't do it," he whispered, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

"But I thought I could. Doesn't that make me…?"

"No." He was holding her so hard he was worried he was going to leave bruises. "No, there's nothing wrong with you. Grief makes us do things we normally never would."

"Like taking a razor to your wrist?" she said, sardonically.

He bowed his head. "Or starting a vow of silence."

He was patronizing her. Anger spiked inside her. "It's not the same and you know it! You're just trying to make me feel better because you know what I did was insane."

"No, I'm not," he said, shaking his head. He loosened his grip, smoothing his fingers up and down her arms, ashamed by the red imprints his fingers had left. "I'm just being honest. I know you didn't do it so you could die, you did it because you missed your mother."

"I thought…if only for a minute…"

"But it didn't work."

"No, it didn't," she agreed, defeated. "Nothing does."

"I know the feeling."

"You do, don't you? You get it. I always thought…" She reached to cup his cheek, forcing him to look at her. "Your eyes," she said, trailing a finger over his eyebrow and down the corner of his eye. "They were always so sad and I knew somehow that you understood."

"I do," he said, pulling her hand away from his face and kissing her knuckles.

"I don't want to be alone anymore. Why do people always leave me, Jason?" Her bottom lip trembled and she valiantly fought the tears that collected in her eyes, but they fell soundlessly down her cheeks anyway. She looked at him like he might vanish.

The uncontrollable shaking of her body frightened him. He pulled her into his arms. She clutched him to her tightly, her hands interlocking behind his neck, creating a tight seal. "I'm not going to leave you," he vowed.

"Promise me you won't," she pleaded.

He buried his face in her neck, breathing in her scent. "I promise, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth could no longer fight back the yawns and her eyes were growing heavy. Jason was so warm and strong she was having a hard time staying awake. It had been a long time since she'd had that kind of connection with anyone and she didn't want to let go.

Holding her for a long stretch of time, although the exact number of minutes he wasn't sure, Jason was convinced she had fallen asleep. Her breathing had slowed and so had her heartbeat. He felt it strong everywhere they were touching. The position they were in was becoming uncomfortable. Her own limbs were at odd angles and he had to wonder if any of her appendages had gone numb. He had to get her to lay down if she was going to get any rest. Slowly disentangling himself from her fierce grip, Jason began to lower her back onto her side of the bed.

"Jason?" she said, groggily.

"Shh," he said, brushing his lips against her forehead. "Lie back down and close your eyes. Try to sleep."

Her eyes blinked open. "You'll stay with me?"

"I'll be right here."

She smiled faintly, letting her eyes flutter shut. "I'm sorry, Jason. I promise in the morning I won't be such a mess."

Jason stroked her hair softly and whispered words she could barely make out while she drifted into a deep slumber.

He wrapped his arm around her and cradled her against his side. She was so soft and vulnerable in his arms and it made him feel needed, like he could do something other than bring hurt and despair to someone he cared about.

Jason did not sleep. He kept vigil.

Elizabeth muttered in her sleep. Something about paint fumes and stretching canvases.

Jason smiled.

* * *

She woke up to find the spot next to her cold and empty. Her fingers scrambled along the sheets without opening her eyes, but she knew she was alone in the bed. Her eyes opened slowly. Movement from the corner of her room alerted her that she wasn't alone. She flashed a smile when she spotted Jason sitting in the chair. She expected things to be awkward, but one look at him and those thoughts melted away.

"Morning," he said.

His voice was still thick from sleep, leading her to wonder how long ago it was that he'd abandoned her and the bed. "Morning. What time is it?"

"About noon," he answered without checking the clock.

"Seriously?" she asked, sitting up, brusquely. Finger-combing her hair, she blinked rapidly, trying to get the sleep out of her eyes. "I have to meet my grandmother in less than an hour. How could you let me sleep so long?"

His lips turned up. "It seemed like you needed it."

That damn crooked smile.

She yawned, stretching, not the least bit concerned when her small t-shirt rid up, exposing a fair amount of her midriff. "I guess I did. I slept _really_ well."

Jason cleared his throat. She was killing him. He'd woken up with the unfortunate problem of having a very prominent reaction to her proximity. And now, with her showing so much skin, that unfortunate problem was making his jeans feel very tight. "I noticed."

"Did I snore?"

"No."

She wiped at her mouth in horror. "I drooled, didn't I?"

"No."

"Then what? Why are you smiling?"

He shook his head. Teasing her was fun. "No reason."

Jason watched the adorable way she wrinkled her nose and bit her lip while she thought.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, paid no mind to him, and thought of all the embarrassing things she'd ever been aware of doing while she slept. The answer hit her like a ton of bricks. Oh, God. "I talked in my sleep."

Jason's grin turned into a full-fledged smirk. "A little."

Jason was fixated on every word. True, she'd mumbled mostly about art supplies, but watching her squirm was enlightening. He wondered what kinds of dreams she'd been having that would cause such distress.

She buried her face in her hands. "What did I say? Oh, man. I really hope I didn't mention--"

Just when Jason thought he was going to get some insight, her head snapped up and she caught his eye.

"Nope. You know what? I don't want to know. Just keep in mind that whatever it was I said was not meant to be heard by the public, and _you_, being the public, should just ignore anything you heard, especially if you or your name was involved."

"You have dreams about me?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she mumbled, feeling heat in her cheeks. In situations like this, Elizabeth always found that diversion worked best. "Uh, you know what? I need to get showered and dressed. Gram hates it when I'm late."

"Okay," he said, getting up from his chair and heading to the door.

"And, hey, Jason?"

He stopped at the threshold and turned around. "Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For last night."

"I didn't do anything," he said, perplexed.

Elizabeth smiled. If only she could express to him how much he had done. "You listened. You stayed. I was kind of a mess, wasn't I? I tend to fall apart around you. I'm sorry."

"Elizabeth, you don't_ ever_ have to be sorry."

God, he was an amazing man. She turned her head so he wouldn't see the tears that sprang to her eyes. "I'll see you when I get back."

"I'll be here."

* * *

Elizabeth spotted Father Max immediately upon entering the small church. She was surprised to find it dimly lit. The only source of light was coming from the red votives lining the right side of the church wall.

"Hey, Father Max. How goes the God business?"

Max tugged on his collar. The lie was worse than the outfit he was forced to wear, but he definitely didn't like the stiff collar that was constantly choking him. "Oh, you know, slow and steady. One worshipper at a time, I say. I have to say I don't have many younger people, such as yourself, clamoring for my attentions these days. It's nice when you come by."

"Yeah, it's a changed world, my Gram always says. She also says Japanese makes more sense to her than I do sometimes."

Max sighed. "Maybe she's just not listening hard enough."

"Sometimes I think she doesn't listen at all. Which is why I'm always glad to stop by and talk to someone who is forced--by nature of his very job description--to listen to me."

"You know I like to listen to you babble," he teased.

"Father!"

"I'm just stating facts. You do like to talk, Miss Webber."

She blushed. "I do. Well, at least with people who actually listen and care about what I have to stay and don't steamroll right over my feelings or passions or--"

Max frowned. "I take it lunch didn't go well with your grandmother?"

"Same as usual, Father. I don't think she'll ever accept that this is how I'm choosing to live my life."

"Sometimes people can't see past their own dreams."

"Yeah. She wants me to be someone I'm not. I wish she just wanted me to be happy, because _that_ I might be able to do."

"Oh, really?" he said, raising his eyebrows.

Elizabeth shook her head. "Don't give me that look, Father."

"What look?"

"That look you have that makes me spill my guts to you."

Max tried to hid the flinch that he involuntarily gave. It was true. He and Elizabeth had an easy relationship. It was different than the one she had with Sonny or Francis and Johnny and _definitely_ different than the one she had with Jason. Elizabeth wasn't guarded around him. In her mind, he was a _real_ priest. She told him things about her family, about her feelings, about tragic things that had happened to her and he swore to keep her secrets. But he was keeping a pretty damn big secret of his own. And when the truth came out? Well, lairs were not people she wanted to associate with. He wasn't sure if Elizabeth would ever forgive him. Hell, he wasn't sure he could forgive himself!

"Hey," he said, placing his hand on his belly. "I'm just here for the sacramental wine."

"Sure," she said, laughing. "So, I can't help but noticing that it's unusually dark in here today. Granted, I've always found churches to be on the dark side—not the dark side, as in evil, just as in with very little light. I've always kind of liked that. Makes for great paintings. But what's going on? Did you forget to pay your light bill?"

"Hardly. Something's wrong with the power."

"So I take it Jason's here? Figures," she said, rolling her eyes. "I've looked everywhere else."

Max placed his hand over his heart, pretending to be grievously offended. "Oh, so you really didn't come to visit me at all."

She chuckled. "Come on, Father. You know I love our little chats, but yeah, I did come looking for Jason. So where is he?"

"He's working on the electrical box in the back. Something about a short in the wiring? Unfortunately for me, the bible isn't much help when it comes to electrical problems."

"Do you mind if I go see him?"

"No, not at all. But you'll need this," he said, handing her a flashlight. "It's mighty dark back there."

"Thanks."

* * *

Nervousness flickered around her stomach when she spotted Jason. His back was to her when she approached. "Jason?"

Jason looked up in acknowledgement but couldn't speak over the penlight in his mouth.

"Do you want some help? I could hold the light for you," she said, waving around the flashlight.

Jason pulled the light from his mouth, wiped it on his jeans and then stuffed it in his shirt pocket. "Thanks."

Elizabeth sat down on a wooden stool and focused the light on the panel of switches with which Jason was tinkering. "When I couldn't find you at home--" She stopped, reminding herself for the umpteenth time that this was _not_ her home. "I mean the house. Anyway, I went looking for you. Do you even realize how big this place is? I mean, of course you must know. You're the one that takes care of everything around here. I guess it keeps you pretty busy, huh?"

"I guess." Oh, he knew. He'd been keeping himself busy the whole day. His mind had been a jumble of thoughts and he needed something to occupy his hands. Fixing things always had a way of bringing clarity. But now, with Elizabeth two feet away, he couldn't remember a damn thing about wiring, let alone how to fix the electricity problem the church was experiencing.

"Listen, I wanted to thank you again for last night. It really helped having you there next to me. I didn't feel overwhelmed or scared or alone." Her voice was wistful.

Jason frowned. He remembered everything they'd discussed, especially her ardent fear that he would leave her. The way she was talking, it was as if it had been a huge sacrifice on his part. "You don't need to thank me, Elizabeth."

"I know." She bit her lip and sighed. "I know this is asking a lot..."

Jason stopped what he was doing and turned to face her. There was little light in the room and he could just make out the quiet bravery building behind her eyes.

She shook her head. "No, forget it."

"What?" he encouraged.

"Do you think… Could you… Would you sleep with me tonight?"

"What?" Jason couldn't hold back an amused smirk.

Elizabeth's eyes widened when the full meaning of her words registered to her brain. She did _not _just ask Jason Morgan to _sleep_ with her! And the smug bastard thought it was funny! She could see the mirth shining in his eyes. "Oh, God! Not what I meant. I didn't mean "sleep" with me like in the biblical sense. I just—I meant _sleep_. Nothing sexual. Just sleep. That's all."

Okay, so she hadn't meant to ask him that, but now that it was out there her brain couldn't help but follow. And yeah, the idea hadn't just sprouted out of nowhere. She'd envisioned it--on more than one occasion.

She could feel Jason's eyes on her, but she refused to look up. Her face felt hot and her skin flush. He certainly had an effect on her like no one else. "It's asking too much, isn't it?" She shook her head, sparing a glance his way.

His smirk slid from his face.

The flashlight had become lax in her hands and the light was aimed at the floor, revealing little of Jason's features. She couldn't tell if he was angry or amused. "No, you're right. It was a stupid idea."

Jason reached out and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "It's not stupid. I'll come by after I finish up around here."

"You will?"

"Yeah. It'll be a while, though," he said, fishing out the pen light from his pocket.

She took that as her signal to leave him to his work. "That's okay," she said, delighted. Pushing herself up from the stool, she aimed the flashlight toward the exit. The sooner Jason finished, the sooner they could go to bed--in that completely platonic, non-sexual way. Just two people sleeping beside each other. She smiled. "Jason, thank you. This is-this is great.

Jason returned her smile uneasily. What the hell had he just agreed to? Oh, man.

"Jason?"

"Yeah?"

She bit her lip. "I have one more favor."

"Okay." Jason wasn't sure he could handle another favor. Sleeping next to her night after night, without acting on his feelings, was going to be challenging enough.

"Do you think… Could we just keep this between us? If Sonny knew, well, he'd probably only worry."

"Sure," he agreed and watched her walk away, sighing in relief.

If Sonny knew, Jason highly doubted he'd believe the innocence of their arrangement. Hell, he was starting to doubt it himself.


End file.
